yesterday came suddenly
by kyawas
Summary: Back in her third year of school, when she was regularly using a time-turner to get to classes, Hermione remembered turning back in time to feel dizzying. Everything around one's person went backwards in time, while you stood on the same spot and watched it happen. This felt different. (also on ao3)
1. here's to the future

_15 November 1998_

The cold was slowing her down, and her muscles were burning, but she couldn't stop running. Stopping would mean death. And Hermione couldn't afford to die after everything that she had gone through to get here.

"Where did that little bitch go?" The familiar shrieking made a shiver run down her body, and the little hairs on the nape of her neck stood up alerting her of the fast-approaching danger.

"Come on, Hermione, faster!" she was muttering to herself.

She had almost made it to the border of the newly erected anti-apparition charm when she heard "_Expulso_," yelled from behind her. The already half-blasted wall next to her exploded in all directions, and a remarkably large portion of the wall smashed her to the ground.

"If it isn't my favourite little mudblood. Came to visit me, did ya?" Bellatrix looked at her with wide eyes and a big grin on her face.

Hermione fished for her wand, but couldn't reach it because of the blanket of stone on her upper body.

"Oh, don't worry, I'll help you," she said with a mock kindness. "_Crucio_."

She tried not to scream, she really did, but her head was already pounding from her fall, and the added pain of the torture curse didn't help.

Her body was thrashing, trying to throw off the curse somehow, but all she managed was to get the blanket of stone off of herself.

It could have been two seconds or two hours, Hermione wasn't sure, but the pain stopped, and Hermione managed to crawl a bit.

"Where do you think you're going, dear? You still have to pay for all you did! _Avada Keda-_" She was cut off by someone behind Hermione yelling "_Petrificus Totalus,_" and fell. Before she could even turn her head, her arm was pulled back, and with a loud crack, they disappeared from the grounds.

* * *

She came down with a loud thump and a groan.

"A body bind, really? You could have just killed her," she muttered against the dusty carpet.

"How about a 'Thank you, Draco. You saved my life.' instead of your constant whinging?"

"I had it handled." He snorted and sat down on the only chair. "But thank you, I guess. Don't look at me like that. This is the best you're going to get. Where's Nott?" She sat herself up on the floor with a heavy groan and leaned against the king-sized bed in the room. Her head felt like it was going to split open thanks to Bellatrix. The cauldron to the left of her let up a bubble that burst in mid-air and gave out a sulfuric smell that didn't help her situation at all.

"He'll be here soon." He sounded almost bored, but Hermione could see the worrying glances he sent the door. "Did you find it?" He suddenly turned those alarmed eyes at her. "Please tell me you did, or this is all for no-"

"Yes, Malfoy! I did. Look, here!" She fished the locket out of her coat and held it up to his face. The light from the lamp illuminated the yellow stone, and a shiver ran down Hermione's back.

"It looks so much like the real one.", she murmured, more to herself than Malfoy, but he looked up to her anyway and what she saw in his eyes made her roll her eyes. "Don't. I don't need your pity."

He opened his mouth as if to say something but just shook his head and stood up to take off his tweed jacket that reminded Hermione of her father. He looked at the door again. "He should have been here already."

His eyes found Hermione's. "You don't think..-", she started.

"No", he interrupted her. "Still, make sure you have everything, so we're ready when he comes."

Hermione looked at him for a little longer before she nodded shortly. She got up to check her trusty beaded bag. She was sure that she had everything she needed since she had checked it multiple times already. Still, she was thankful for her hands and her mind to be busy so she wouldn't have to worry about Theodore.

It didn't help.

"Are you really taking that thing with you?"

Hermione frowned at him. "And what, pray tell, do you have against my bag?" The bag and she went a long way. Her mother had given it to her as a gift, her last one. Hermione had cried that night, knowing that it would be a while before her mother would be able to gift her anything again. She was hopeful back then that Harry, Ron and she would find all the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort and the war with it. Two of those things they had managed to accomplish. The war didn't end, though. Bellatrix took over the reins, and she was a far better leader than Voldemort could have ever dreamed of being.

"Oh, nothing. It's beautiful, obviously. I _especially_ adore those noisy beads. Makes it real easy to sneak around." Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at him again, but she knew he had a point. She was thinking of cutting the beads off when Malfoy gave her a box with a bow on top.

"It was Theo's idea, he wanted to give this to you. But I don't think we will have enough time when he comes." Malfoy shoved the box in her hands and didn't look into Hermione's eyes once while she was looking at him with a smirk on her face.

She took the lid off of the box. "If someone had told me a year ago that Draco Malfoy of all people would give me a present..." She shook her head and took the slightly furry bag out of the carton. Her smirk fell from her face when she remembered where she had seen this kind of pouch before. Hagrid had gifted Harry one on his birthday. That felt like years ago to her now.

Her eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away before they streamed down her face. "Thank you.", she whispered.

"It was Theo's idea, thank him." He still wouldn't look her in the eyes, but he had a small smile on his face that made her smile too. She really never would have imagined being something like friends with Draco Malfoy, not even in her wildest dreams. "I put the same illegal extension charm on it that your beady bag has, but this pouch is safer because only you can access it."

She thanked him again and then started to transfer her bags inventory to the pouch. It was a little sad that she wouldn't be walking around with her mother's bag anymore, but Draco was right. The mokeskin pouch would be safer on her travels since she would be able to wear it around her neck inconspicuously.

She was fitting the last book in her new pouch when the door burst open. In a moment, both Malfoy's and her wand were in their hands and pointed at the door. Hermione was about to stupefy whoever had dared to ambush them when the whirlwind of a person hugged the blond wizard in the room with her. "Theo, you prick!" She put away her wand. "I could have killed you."

Theo detangled himself from Malfoys embrace and hugged her quickly. "Good to see you, too, Hermione. And believe me, you wouldn't have succeeded if you'd tried." He clapped his hands and looked around the room. "Are we ready, then? I don't think we have more than ten minutes before Yaxley figures out where I am hiding, and I'd rather he not find you here, love."

Malfoy came up behind Theo. "Everything's ready. We just need the sand." He gestured towards the bubbling potion, and Theo went over.

"Let's hope this actually works." He grinned at both Hermione and Draco when he said it, but Hermione thought she saw the fear behind it. She imagined both of the boys felt like her; uncertain and deathly afraid of failure. But she couldn't think like this now. It was too late for doubt, and they didn't have any other plans. This was their last resort.

Theo carefully took two broken time-turners out of his pocket. He poured the sand of the first one fully in. The potion gave a hissing sound, but nothing seemed to change otherwise. "I don't actually know how much sand a functioning time-turner contains, thanks to your lot." He gave a playful wink Hermione's way who felt like puking. "Don't worry, love, I'm sure a little more won't hurt." He shrugged as if to say why not and poured all the sand of the second one in too.

Not a breath could be heard as the three of them stood in anticipation for the potion to do something, anything.

"Maybe we should stir it?" Theo's hand reached for the ladle that was hanging on the cauldrons handle. Hermione quickly slapped his hand away.

"Don't you _dare_ mess this up now, Theodore. I calculated everything accurately." She raised her left eyebrow for emphasis, and he took a guilty step away from the cauldron.

Just then, the potion bubbled up again. Right when it looked like it was going to overflow, the colour changed from a steel grey to a golden hue.

"I guess that's it, then.", Malfoy said nonchalantly but let out a breath that was far from relaxed. "Get the locket out."

Hermione fumbled for a second with her new pouch around her neck, before wandlessly summoning the locket into her hand. She took a deep breath and then nodded at Malfoy. "Ready when you are." She hoped her shaky voice didn't betray her words.

Malfoy took the locket out of her hands and let it fall in the potion. Once again, the potion bubbled up, but this time it seemed to evaporate into thin air until only the locket was left on the golden bottom. He took it out again, pointed his wand and whispered a quick "_Portus_."

"This is really happening, huh?" Hermione felt like fainting. She had been waiting for this moment for almost half a year, right after Harry's death, but it was only just now hitting her. She was going back in time, all alone and with no real plan other than to survive and hope for a better outcome this time around. Her breath quickened, and her eyes filled with unshed tears once again. She thought she had gotten her emotions under control after her best friends death, but at that moment, everything was just too much for the curly-haired witch.

"Love, everything will be fine." Theo took her by the shoulders and looked directly into her eyes. "You calculated everything to the T, you said so yourself. I believe in you, Hermione, you can do it. We believe in you." Hermione and Theo looked at Malfoy, who was standing a little farther away from them.

The blond looked her in the eyes and nodded. "You're the only one who can do it." His voice was quiet, but he seemed so certain that it made Hermione's panic lessen a bit.

"Right," she breathed out. "Of course. And you guys can't come with me." It wasn't asked as a question since Hermione knew the answer already. Still, a little hopeful part of her was wishing for a miracle so she wouldn't have to go alone.

"Don't be silly, Granger." The girl let out a wet laugh when she saw the infamous Draco Malfoy sneer on his face. It made her hug him for the first time since their tentative friendship had begun. He tensed up for a second before raising his arms around her. Theo joined the hug too, and Hermione never wanted to let go.

But of course, everything good had to come to an end.

There was a loud crash from outside, and muffled voices could be heard. The three jumped to action immediately.

Hermione took the locket from Draco's hand and put it around her neck over her mokeskin pouch.

Draco jumped up towards the door to strengthen the wards and put a couple more around. There was more crashing to be heard, and for a second Hermione worried about the muggles in the rooms next to theirs but let it go quickly. There was no time left to worry.

"Take this, " She felt something being shoved in her hand. "I told you about my mother. This was hers. If you need help, this will make her trust you." He gave her a small smirk. "I know you don't need it because you're Hermione Granger, but it has always brought me good luck. I hope it serves you well."

The sounds from outside were at their door now. A voice that sounded like Bellatrix screamed in delight.

"Hermione, please save her." He crushed her in a quick hug.

Malfoy looked at the door for a second before shaking his head in defeat and coming up to her. He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "You know the words."

She smiled at them for one last time before touching the locket around her neck.

"Here's to the future."

As Hermione felt the invisible force pull her backwards in time, the door opened, and three death eaters were standing there ready for a fight. Draco and Theo didn't even bother looking up at them.

The last thing Hermione saw of her friends was their locked hands, while both of them were hit by curses.


	2. disobedient

**I want to make clear that I am not one to give out trigger warnings for every new chapter. That's not because I don't believe in them or anything like that, but because I will most likely just forget.**  
**So, I just want you guys to know what you're getting into before the story starts to pick up more. It is tagged M for a reason, so please read on your own discretion.**  
**Love, Kaya x**

* * *

_13 March 1979_

It was two in the morning when Regulus Black arrived at his ancestral home of 12 Grimmauld Place.

Kreacher was the first to greet him at the door. "Master Regulus, sir. The Mistress is in the drawing-room with the Ladies Druella, Narcissa and Bellatrix. They are waiting for you, young master Black." Regulus nodded his thanks and let go of his black leather bag for Kreacher to take into his room.

With a small pop, the house-elf and the luggage disappeared, and Regulus was left alone, still standing in the archway of the front door. The night sky was split open with occasional thunder and lightning, and cold, wet air was brushing up against the Black heirs back.

He took a couple of breaths of fresh air before closing the door and turning to face his mother.

The closer he got to the drawing-room, the louder were the sobs to be heard. A chill ran down Regulus' body.

The last time he had heard his mother cry was when Sirius had been disowned. Sirius had told him, while carelessly stuffing his Hogwarts trunk, that 'the bitch had never felt a single emotion in her life' and to not believe her fake sobs.

But Regulus had always been his mothers favourite.

Even now, knowing that his father and mother had never been close or even cared for each other, his mother's sobs broke Regulus' heart.

The door was open when he got there. His mother was sitting in one of the red armchairs sniffling into her embroidered handkerchief while his aunt Druella sat on the settee holding her hand and murmuring comforting words. Narcissa was seated next to her mother, looking around uncomfortably.

The sounds stopped when his mother saw him standing awkwardly in the archway, not sure what to do with himself.

"Regulus, my sweet boy!" She got out of her seat, almost pulling aunt Druella, who was still holding her hand, with her. "Oh, what tragedy has befallen our family. First, that selfish brother of yours, and now your father!" Her hands went up to his face, and he felt his cheeks being squished as if he was a little child.

Regulus didn't like being treated like a child. He also didn't like being touched in his face, so he took her hands in his. "It's good to see you, mother. Aunt Druella, Cissy." He greeted his family with a small nod of his head.

"Your favourite cousin doesn't get a greeting?" A familiar voice to the left of him made him look up and see Bellatrix.

"Bella, I didn't see you there." He inclined his head to her direction, and let go of his mother's hands. "I'll be back down shortly, mother. I just need to freshen up." His mother let out a loud sigh and went back to sit down and be comforted by his aunt.

Regulus wanted to leave the suffocating room quickly. He had never been one for emotions and seeing his mother cry, be it fake or not, made him unable to think like the grown man he had to be now.

"Oh, Reggie, let me accompany you. We need to talk." Regulus was on his way out, but Bella's voice made him stop for a second.

"Of course." He tried to sound as nonchalant as he could. Bella only ever wanted to talk to him when she needed him to do something. At least that's how it was when they were children. Nowadays talking entailed news from their Lord.

Bellatrix took the lead and went up the stairs to his room. "Such a shame about your father. Uncle Orion was so young, still. Dragonpox can be a bitch, huh?" He only nodded his head in agreement. It was the first time he had heard his father even having Dragonpox.

"Anyway, sit down." She gestured to his bed. "Tomorrow is the big day, cousin. Our Lord will give you your first official mission after the funeral. You won't even have to do anything really, he only needs a favour from you." Bellatrix voice was higher than usual, she sounded excited. "You can thank me later, once you rise up to maybe even be his right-hand man!" She clapped her hands together, and Regulus was waiting for her to squeal in excitement like the girls in school used to do when they talked about his older brother. But Bellatrix would never be one to squeal in excitement. "I'll be on his other side, of course. My Lord would never leave me."

Even though he had felt like he was suffocating just five minutes ago, Bella's excitement got to Regulus. This was his chance. To prove that he was the best choice for this family, the right heir. "Do you know what the favour is for?"

"Why do you care? You only need to say yes. Trust me, Reggie." She smiled a big, toothy grin at him. "Now go back down to your dear old mother and give her a hug. That poor woman... But you are the Lord of the house now. You'll make us proud, Reggie." She pinched his cheek on her way out and laughed out loud when he grimaced at the pain.

Regulus was left alone in his room. His eyes found the wall above his bed. 'Toujours Pur' it said in black calligraphed letters and under that was the collage he had made of all of his Lord's accomplishments. It felt like decades, but it had only been a year ago that he had collected all of those newspaper clippings.

He smiled to himself.

Soon he would be on there too.

* * *

_14 March 1979_

Regulus was standing to the side while his mother was greeting and hugging the funeral guests.

Every one of them was wearing black, not any different than usual. Maybe they ought to have a different colour for funerals, he thought. Yellow, maybe. So there was at least something fun to look at. When they were younger, his cousins' Narcissa and Andromeda used to wear all kinds of colours.

It had always made Regulus happy, between seas of black.

He looked over to see Narcissa stand with her new husband. She was wearing a black dress, as was expected of them.

"Regulus, don't doze off. Help me with the guests." His mother's sharp voice brought him back from the little stupor he had been in.

"Of course, mother."

Hew went on to greet and thank the purest of families.

The funeral was a small gathering. Small for the Blacks.

Lord Black's death had been a sudden and unexpected affair to happen. Everyone was sorry to have to say goodbye to him, or so they all said to the new Lord Black.

Regulus just kept thanking them for their kind words.

It took over an hour, but finally, he was left alone at his father's newly excavated grave.

"Dragonpox, huh?" A nervous voice came up from behind Regulus, who was standing above his father's headstone.

"So they say." He didn't have to look up to know that Barty had joined him.

Regulus wanted to be cross with his friend, but he knew that he had no right to be. He was only doing what was best for his family, just like Regulus. Always anxious to please.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there when you got the news," Barty said, coming up on Regulus' right side. His hand brushed against his. "You know I would have come with you. It's just Marjorie needed help in transfiguration, and I guess we just forgot what time it was."

"Yeah, I get it, it's fine. I got the news pretty late at night, anyway. Bet you were sleeping in your tower already." He turned his face more to the right to look at Barty's face.

The brown-haired boy was still looking a little nervous but now had a closed-mouth smile on his face that lit up his eyes. His curly hair was windswept and looked messy, a sight his mother would have screamed at, but Regulus only wanted to dig his hands in.

Barty took his hand in his and Regulus' back went straight as an arrow. He shrugged, trying to look casual. His free hand went up to his mouth in a fist as he coughed and looked around them. Only a shaggy black dog seemed to be in the neighbours garden, who wouldn't be able to see them anyway. It didn't make him relax.

"I bet you heard this a lot today, but I really am sorry about your father. I know you were not close, but I bet he wasn't as much as an arse as mine, and that is something to be celebrated." Barty gave a self-deprecating chuckle.

"He still wouldn't have been fine with this," Regulus murmured, looking at their interlocked hands and Barty laughed again.

"No one ever is."

The back door of the townhouse opened, letting the sounds of clattering utensils out.

Barty and Regulus separated at once.

"My Lord." Both of them spoke at the same time, and Regulus knew it was only adding to the awkwardness around them, but Lord Voldemort only gave them one of his handsome smiles.

"Regulus, I have a matter to discuss with you. I believe Bellatrix already told you." Regulus looked behind the man and saw his cousin standing at the door with her arms crossed, looking like she ate something sour.

"Forgive me, my Lord. I was mourning my father and lost track of time." Next to him, Barty started fidgeting with his hands.

"Excuse us, Mr Crouch." Without another word, their Lord turned back around to the house.

Regulus gave Barty a quick smile before following and leaving him standing alone in the cold.

"My Lord," Bella smiled as they crossed her, still standing at the door. Before Regulus could pass her too, she grabbed his arm painfully. "You almost made me look like a fool." She was still smiling when she let go of his arm, and with a last disgusted look behind Regulus, she went inside.

Lord Voldemort took charge guiding Regulus inside his own house. He chose the same small drawing-room his mother had been crying in only a day ago.

"Bellatrix can be too passionate sometimes. I like that about her," he said, sitting down on the big armchair his father used to sit in whenever they had company. "But I came here for a different reason. Bellatrix has been telling me that you long to be more involved. I can understand that," he said solemnly, crossing his hands in his lap, never letting Regulus out of his sight. "You have been one of my most loyal followers since your initiation last summer, and now that you are almost done with your schooling, I believe we can give you more to do than recruit. Not that you didn't do a great job in that regard. Especially young Mr Crouch has been very eager to lead some of his own missions." He looked a second longer when he mentioned Barty, his eyes almost glinting red from the light of the fireplace. "Today, though, I only need one thing from you, Mr Black. I am in need of a house-elf for a side project I am working on. Your cousin told me you might be able to help."

"My house-elf?" Regulus knew his confusion was a mistake better kept in his mind the second it left his mouth. His Lord's constant pleasant smile left his handsome face and in place was a slightly raised eyebrow as if to challenge the boy to defy his Lord.

"Of course, my Lord." Regulus quickly riposted. "Kreacher, our house-elf, has been in our family for decades. He is very trustworthy and will do anything I tell him to." Regulus bowed his head while talking. His mother had instilled in him to have respect to his elders from a very young age. He was sure Sirius still had the scars to show what happened when you didn't. He didn't want to know what scars Lord Voldemort would leave. "I can call him now if you require it."

Lord Voldemort stood up from his seat effortlessly.

"Tell it to be at Lestrange Manor at noon tomorrow. Don't worry, I'll return it to you." He put his hand on the door handle, but before leaving, he turned his head slightly back to face Regulus. "I am sorry for your loss, Lord Black."

The Black heir finally let out the breath he was holding when he was sure that his Lord was out of earshot. His presence always felt like a snake curling around one's ribcage and not letting go.

That's what he imagined being respected to feel like. Everyone he respected made him feel like that, after all.

He took a couple more breaths before joining the remaining guests, mostly consisting of his closest family, in the parlour room.

His eyes found Barty's immediately upon entering, who gave him an enthusiastic thumbs up. Regulus tried to hide his smile behind his hand and only nodded. Barty was almost as eager to please the Dark Lord as his cousin was, and while Bella's devotion sometimes scared him, Barty's felt like a little child, longing to please his father.

Barty was on his way to Regulus when Bellatrix made him turn around and pretend he wanted to talk to Professor Slughorn instead, who was standing near the hors d'oeuvres side-eyeing them and patting his belt.

Bellatrix regarded Regulus over to her table. She was standing an armlength away from her husband Rodolphus while Narcissa and Lucius, at the same table, seemed to be leaning on each other.

"I hope everything went well?"

"Of course, cousin. Anything that our family can provide, our Lord will have."

Bellatrix almost smiled at him but was interrupted by a burst of rumbling laughter coming from Slughorn. Her face turned sour as she rolled her eyes dramatically. "Why that old drunkard insisted on staying, I don't understand. And," She came face to face with Regulus, smiling an innocent smile that always meant danger. "You better forget about that Crouch boy. That is no way how a Lord of the House of Black should be seen or regarded. Do you understand?"

Regulus opened his mouth to deny anything concerning Barty, but Narcissa caught his eye behind Bella and shook her head slightly, only for him to see.

"I said, do you understand, Reggie?" Her smile seemed to grow.

"Of course," he said instead, feeling a lump in his throat that was hard to swallow down.

The tension was burst when Regulus' mother came up and took him by his arm. "My dearest friends and family. I want to thank you all for joining us on this sad day. My husband and I were married for twenty long years. It will be... very different without him." She patted a tear away that Regulus saw didn't exist.

"I don't want this day to end on a sad note. So, while this is a funeral, I also want this to be seen as a new and exciting step for the House of Black. My only son and heir is to be the Lord of the house now. Regulus," his mother smiled up at him lovingly. She was good at that when people were around to see. Still, he smiled back. "This ring was your fathers, and now it is yours. I can't wait to see what bright future you will bring our house."

There was a polite round of applause as Regulus took the golden ring out of the box. As far as Regulus could remember, the ring had always been on his father's hand. It was a huge responsibility to be the Lord of the house, his father had always told Sirius.

Now it was his.

"Thank you, mother."

He put the ring on and kissed her on the cheek.

* * *

_17 March 1979_

Regulus was lying in his bed, face down in his pillow, feeling like screaming.

He was tired of people being in his house talking about how wonderful his father had been, tired of his mother constantly hovering over him and muttering about the bright future he would lead them to, and tired just in general.

Regulus had wanted to be seen as the new Lord Black. He thought that title would have come with a bit of privacy, though.

Instead of privacy, the last couple of days since the funeral had been full of dealing with boring ministry business and serving his mother, since her trusty house-elf was out of service.

Even with magic, Regulus was slaving away his free time making tea and bringing biscuits to his mother's friends. They, of course, thought it charming and gushed about what a perfect son-in-law he'd be. He didn't have to look at his mother to know she was already planning to marry him off once he was done with school.

Regulus felt relieved that so far his mother hadn't liked any of the offered girls.

He turned around in his bed, his hands crossed at the nape of his neck, looking at the blank ceiling of his room.

He had always known that one day he'd be married off to the best and purest available girl. When he was younger, the future had seemed so far away, and now that it was here, he didn't know what to think.

He wanted to write to Barty, to ask him for his opinion. He knew he was going through something similar with his father. But then again, maybe his was a totally different situation. They never really talked much about home when they were alone.

He was startled from his thoughts when a bundle of wet fell on the middle of his floor with a loud _thump. _

Regulus had his wand in his hand at once and wordlessly erected a shield while he turned on the lights.

What he found before him was not what he expected.

Kreacher was writhing around on the floor, seemingly in pain, his cloth and skin dripping wet, leaving behind a dark spot on the carpet.

Thinking quick, Regulus put a silencing charm on his room as to not wake his sleeping mother up in the middle of the night.

"Speak, Kreacher," he ordered the house-elf.

"Young master Regulus, sir." The house-elf was still writhing on the ground in pain. "Kreacher is a good elf, sir! Kreacher came back."

"You did good, Kreacher," he tried to soothe the elf, but it didn't seem to be pain inflicted by breaking house-elf vows. "What do you need?"

"Kreacher needs water!" he managed to croak out.

Regulus took the empty glass from his nightstand, and aguamenti-d water inside of it.

He crouched next to the elf on the floor, holding the glass up to his mouth. It took a total of six glasses to make Kreacher stop crying.

The house-elf looked like he was going in and out of a daze, but Regulus needed to know what had happened. He didn't know what could have possibly caused this. What kind of project had his Lord been working on to need a house-elf, anyway? And what kind of project would leave a house-elf in this much pain?

He dried Kreacher's clothing and skin with a quick wave of his wand and gathered the old elf in his arms to lay him on his bed. He was lighter than he imagined.

"Tell me what happened, Kreacher."

The elf's eyes opened wide as he remembered. "Kreacher is a good elf, sir. He did everything the Lord asked of him, just like young master Regulus had said. And Kreacher came back home, just like his master told him to do. Please don't punish Kreacher, young master! Kreacher is a good elf!" Big drops of tears fell out the elf's eyes onto Regulus' pillow.

"Kreacher, please calm down. Tell me exactly what happened. No one will punish you, I promise." He tried to stay calm, but he didn't really know what he was doing. No one had prepared him for a moment like this.

"Master Regulus told Kreacher to go to Lestrange Manor, and Kreacher did, sir! Kreacher went there, and there was the master's Lord waiting on Kreacher. The Lord made Kreacher brew a horrible potion. Horrible, horrible, horrible." He shook his head left and right. "Kreacher took the Lord to a cave. It was cold and dark, and there was humans in the waters, master Regulus! The Dark Lord filled a bowl with the potion and a locket and then made Kreacher drink the potion. Oh, master Regulus, Kreacher is a good elf! The Lord told Kreacher to be quiet while he drank the potion, and Kreacher was quiet because master Regulus told him to do everything the Lord said to do. When Kreacher drank everything, the Lord took the invisible boat back and left Kreacher in the cave, master! He told Kreacher to stay, and Kreacher didn't know what to do, sir! Kreacher was thirsty, but there was bad humans in the waters, and master Regulus told Kreacher to come back home when the Lord was done. But he also told Kreacher to do everything the Lord said, but Kreacher couldn't stay! His master and mistress were waiting at home!" The elf's tears were still falling down his grey cheeks, leaving behind wet streaks.

Regulus was sitting on his desk chair, his hands folded under his chin, leaning on his legs. He didn't know what to think of Kreacher's story. What could his Lord have been trying to hide so carefully as to not wanting to leave behind any witnesses? Not even a house-elf.

"Do you know what the locket was, Kreacher?" He kept his voice even to not startle the already frightened house-elf.

"Kreacher does not know, master Regulus. Kreacher only knows that it felt bad when he touched it. Kreacher is sorry for not knowing and being a bad elf, sir." He started whimpering again, and as much as he felt for the elf at the moment, Regulus needed time to think clearly.

"You're a good house-elf, Kreacher. Go to sleep." Kreacher's whimpers stopped at once as he fell in a deep slumber on his master's bed.

His master, on the other hand, only had one thing on his mind, and it wasn't sleeping.

* * *

_15 April 1979_

Regulus was sitting at his desk in his dark room, quill in hand. The empty parchment in front of him was only illuminated by a dying candle.

The house seemed unusually quiet after that day's belated festivities to celebrate the beginning of spring, and every little sound seemed to be tripled in noise to the boy's ears. He imagined if he concentrated hard enough, he'd be able to hear his mother turning around in her bed, unable to sleep.

Ever since Sirius had left, she was only able to sleep with a heavy dosage of sleeping draught, but once you started taking that, it was hard to stop. He imagined it wasn't any easier on her now that she was alone in the house for most of the time.

He shook his head. He still hadn't written anything down.

_'To the Dark Lord,' _he started writing.

Was he really going to do this?

Was he really going to throw all his hard work out of the window? After he had worked so hard to be at the place he was, one of the most trusted followers of his Lord. Everything was going as it should be, was it not?

He had known his Lord to be a ruthless man. Of course, Regulus had known. The newspaper clippings on his wall were evidence of that. Regulus also wasn't going to ignore that he had killed to be a part of this world. It had seemed like the right thing to do for his family.

His mother had been so happy last summer.

Taking someone's life, even a muggle's, wasn't something that came easy to Regulus.

It had taken all of Regulus' willpower to say the words, and even then it hadn't worked. His cousin had shrieked her loud, cackling laughter through the muggle house.

_"You have to really mean it, Reggie,"_ she had said. She had come up behind him, to look over his shoulder, while the muggle crawled around on the floor surrounded by his own piss._ "You can do it, cousin. You _want_ to do it, cousin." _She took his outstretched wand-arm in his.

"_Avada Kedavra,_" they both said, and the man fell over, his eyes blank.

Regulus wasn't a hypocrite. He was a bad man himself.

But to take innocence's life in order to split your soul?

It had taken him almost a month to figure out what the Dark Lord could possibly be hiding in the cave.

When he finally found _Secrets of the Darkest Art _in the vast Malfoy library, he was sure it could be nothing else than a Horcrux.

The Dark Lord had always spoken about death like it was beneath him. Regulus was sure that Voldemort would do anything to be regarded as a God, to live forever like a God.

Reading the ritual necessary for creating a Horcrux had made Regulus sick to his stomach, and reevaluate the light he had seen the Dark Lord in.

But was he really ready to die?

He had pledged on the day of his initiation that he was ready to kill and die for the Dark Lord's cause.

But was he ready to betray it?

Betray the Dark Lord. His family. His mother.

A pop behind him made him startle out of his thoughts.

"Kreacher has found a locket, young master Regulus." After the night of Kreacher's return, it didn't take the house-elf long to get back into his daily routine of cleaning, cooking and fawning over the Lady Black. With the locket in his trembling hand, he sounded just like that night again.

"Thank you, Kreacher." He took the locket out of the elf's hand. "I promise you, you won't ever have to think about the cave again after tomorrow night."

Kreacher nodded, his big eyes never leaving his master's left hand that was holding the locket.

"It is late, you should go to sleep now, and be well-rested for tomorrow. We'll talk again."

With another soft pop, Regulus was once again alone in his room. He sat back down at his desk to see what he had written. It may have been a tad bit dramatic, but he was a Black after all.

This was it then. He was going to do it.

If only Sirius knew that- It didn't matter now.

With a flourish of his hand, he put down his initials.

Regulus was about to listen to his own words and head to bed when with no sound at all a girl appeared on his floor.

"Regulus Black," she whispered as her eyes closed and her body went limp.


	3. under the cover of night

_in limbo_

Back in her third year of school, when she was regularly using a time-turner to get to classes, Hermione remembered turning back in time to feel dizzying.

Everything around one's person went backwards in time, while you stood on the same spot and watched it happen.

This felt different.

Actually, it didn't feel like anything at all.

Not like apparating, nor using a portkey.

Hermione had thought that she would have been hurting, screaming because her eyes and mind wouldn't be able to handle the sights changing so quickly in front of her. But she couldn't even open her eyes. She couldn't do anything but wait for the sense of nothingness to end.

When it did end, she felt like crying from the pain her head caused her, but instead, she fell into a different kind of nothingness.

* * *

_16 April 1979_

Hermione's head felt like splitting in two.

She was scared of opening her eyes. Afraid she wouldn't be able to, like when she was falling through time; afraid she would be and seeing that she was still in the crummy hotel room, and her two friends dead at her feet.

She started slow, only moving her fingers - they seemed to work - then, opening first her left and then her right eye.

Her breath caught in her throat when she couldn't see anything. A whimpering sound escaped her lips.

"I didn't do anything to you." Her head darted to her left side where the voice seemed to be coming from. The rapid movement made her see stars, and a bout of dizziness hit her. "You seem to have hit your head pretty hard. I will give you a pain potion if you answer my questions."

Hermione ignored him. "Why can I not see?" She didn't feel comfortable with one of her senses void. "You already tied me to a chair. I can't do anything to you."

She didn't hear anything but a clock ticking for the moment it took him to think her words over.

_"Finite Incantatem," _he said, and her eyes were flooded with bright light. The light was only coming from a fireplace, but it took her a while to get used to having her eyesight back and seeing clearly.

She was tied to a chair in the middle of the room, Regulus Black in front of her holding his wand almost lazily in his right hand. His eyes didn't hold any emotion in them; he just stared coldly with his eyebrows raised in demand, regarding her.

"Who are you? What do you want and how did you get through the wards without being detected?" His voice was even, but Hermione saw his arm twitch when she tried to sit up straighter on the hard stool.

She didn't answer him immediately; instead, her eyes flitted around the familiar to her room. It looked exactly the same as it did when Harry, Ron and she had stayed at Grimmauld Place while on their hunt for Horcruxes. Well, maybe it didn't look exactly the same as the walls were web free, no cracks to be seen, and the room was organised and dusted.

Hermione's brown eyes found back to his grey ones. "Would you believe me if I said I was here to save you?"

His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice quiet.

"I think you know what I mean."

Regulus started to shake his head no but paused, and he sat down on the edge of his bed.

"What do you know?" His eyes were hard now and looking directly at her, trying to break the barrier of her mind.

Hermione groaned. "If you want to use legilimency on someone, buy a girl a drink first. Preferably a pain potion." Her headache started to grow as he wouldn't relent. She shut her eyes and sighed. "For your own sake, I hope that you're better at occlumency. If not, me saving you will be for nought." The dull pain stopped, and she opened her eyes again. "Thanks."

"Who sent you? And don't try to deflect again. Just answer my questions."

"Or what, you'll kill me?" The thought made her laugh out loud. She had survived this far; had endured far worse. A scared little boy wouldn't be her downfall, not if she had anything to say.

The knots were getting looser as they spoke.

The Black heir apparently didn't like being laughed at. His arm shot up, and he held the wand right up to her face, almost touching her skin. "Answer my questions!" he demanded, his jaw clenched.

"Alright, I'm sorry." Hermione still found the situation laughable, but she saw the sincerity in his eyes. She had to remember who she had in front of her. This young death eater was different than Draco Malfoy; he had killed before in his life.

"My name is Hermione Granger. I meant it when I said I was here to save you. I know what you are planning to do, Regulus Black." She felt the blood circulation return to her left hand. "And I know that it'll be your death." She looked up in his eyes. "But you know that too."

Regulus' eyes seemed far away. He stumbled back toward his bed and sat down again. "Who sent you?"

"I did." Did he think Voldemort had found out about his plan and sent her to kill him?

Hermione hadn't planned on coming clean so early on, but she felt it necessary to explain herself better. The only problem was that she had no strategy on how or where to start.

"This will sound ridiculous," she began, breathing in to calm her nerves. "but I'm from the future." Regulus' eyes cleared up, and his head snapped back to her with a doubtful look on his face. "I know. As I said, ridiculous. I almost can't believe it myself. Especially since we didn't know if it would actually work." She shook her head, still in a slight state of shock that everything had worked out as planned.

"I come from 1998. The war that started almost ten years ago here is still going strong, even without Voldemort." She got quiet for a second. Regulus didn't disrupt her. "I guess it's not going on anymore; the only time is now, so... I'm sorry if this is confusing you." Hermione found it almost comical how his eyes had gotten wider with every word coming out of her mouth and him just staring at her blankly.

"It's not confusing," he said, his tone sharp but unsteady. "I just don't believe you." She watched him set his wand on the nightstand next to him.

Hermione calculated her next step, but only for a short second. She felt it safe now that she had his attention with her sensational sounding story.

Still seated in the chair - she didn't want to take him too much by surprise - she grabbed inside her shirt with her now two free hands.

Regulus was faster than she had thought him to be, as at once, his wand was against her forehead.

"Please," she said. "I just want to show you something."

"How did you free yourself?"

She gave a slight smirk that she had adopted from spending the last couple of months with Draco Malfoy. "You may have taken my wand, but magic still runs through me." He didn't seem to find it as amusing as she did, though. "Relax, that's all I really know how to do without a wand." She grabbed the locket around her neck and slowly raised her arms up.

Regulus was still pointing his wand against her, but his eyes were locked on her right hand that held the identical locket she was sure to be somewhere in this room.

His mouth slightly opened in disbelieve, and Hermione knew she had him. Regulus legs seemed to give out, and he almost stumbled to the ground, but he steadied himself with the bedpost.

"So you really know?"

"I do. I also know how to destroy it."

"Do I not destroy it?" He looked like he was going to be sick. "So I die, and I don't even destroy that damned thing?" His voice was on the edge of hysteria.

"I understand this must be a lot for you, but you need to calm down." She carefully went over to him and forced him back down to sit on his bed. Hermione sat down beside him and tried to catch his eyes, but he had them shut tight. "You will destroy the Horcrux, and you will not die." Her voice was soft yet resolute.

His breath was still going too fast for Hermione's liking, and she was scared he was going to have a full-blown panic attack.

"Regulus, look at me." He opened his eyes very slowly, and he couldn't seem to stop blinking, but finally, he looked in her eyes. "We obviously didn't know each other in the future, but I am here to save you because I know you are a good person." He opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione cut him off. "You _are_ a good person. Someone who has made some foolish decisions in his life, but now wants to do the right thing. I used to know someone just like you, and I couldn't save him in the end." Her nose was stinging, informing her on the oncoming tears. She let out a bitter laugh. "I couldn't save a lot of people. I have a second chance to do that now, but I need your help with that."

He was quiet, his breathing more even now. Sitting there, his mouth still slightly open in disbelieve, he looked even younger than he already was. Hermione felt for him, for herself, for they were only children thrown into this war that generations before them had started.

"How can I help?"

Hermione smiled at him. "We'll deal with the first Horcrux tomorrow like you had planned. After that, I will need your help to make myself a believable backstory. I already have an idea prepared, but, well... we'll talk about it after we get the real locket. I don't want to overwhelm you tonight."

Regulus' eyes seemed far away, deep in thought again. "You said first. That means he split his soul more than once? Went through that- that ritual more than once?" He shivered, and his black, almost blue looking, hair fell over of his eyes.

"He believed seven to be a very powerful number."

"Seven," he whispered. "So I wasn't able to destroy the locket, but even if I had been successful, it would have meant nothing." His head turned back to Hermione, and she was thrown off by the determined look in his eyes. "I will help you destroy all of them."

Hermione hadn't known the boy in front of her for long. Still, a sense of pride washed over her, and for the hundredth time in the past 24 hours, she felt like curling up and crying out of sheer emotional exhaustion.

"I knew you would," she said, and she meant it. "You should go to bed now; tomorrow will be very tiring an-"

"But," he continued as if she hadn't said anything at all. "I can't be sure that everything you're saying is true. My father used to keep a vial of Veritaserum in his study."

_Of course,_ Hermione thought, _everything was going too smoothly._

Apparently, the witch took too long to comply, or he thought she was going to protest his point, as he once again cut her off. "I don't know about you, but I don't tend to blindly believe strange girls showing up on my bedroom floor."

Hermione saw his point, she really did, that's why she didn't want to make any decisions that she would later come to regret. She figured honesty, for the time being, would be the best option in this case.

"I want to be honest with you since my future plans involve you a great deal. I was trained by some very capable Occlumens, so if I really wanted to, I could lie to you even under the influence of Veritaserum."

He seemed to think Hermione's words over. If he was even a bit surprised by her honesty, he didn't show it. She gathered that she wasn't the only accomplished Occlumens in his room.

"An Unbreakable Vow then. To make sure you can't lie to me."

Hermione tried to keep her facial expressions unfazed, but it was her clenched hands that gave her away. His eyes went from her white knuckles back to her eyes questioningly, possibly even a bit triumphant.

Hermione unclenched her fists. "We need a witness."

"My house-elf's magic will do."

She sat back down on the uncomfortable chair with her eyes closed, contemplating her words, while Regulus explained Kreacher who the stranger in his room was in as few words as possible; Kreacher was compliant and restrained, a significant difference in behaviour from what she knew of him in the future.

Hermione needed a plan. She couldn't vow to tell him the whole truth; not about the future, and not about her plans in his present. Her present now, too.

He called her 'Miss Granger' to get her attention, and they kneeled on the floor facing each other. She took his hand in hers, and she could feel the same writer's callus on him that she had on her middle finger. She could also feel Kreacher's distrusting glare ever so often on her, but she kept her gaze on Regulus' grey eyes.

"I vow that everything I have told you so far is the truth and I vow to answer your questions regarding my situation and plans as truthfully as I am capable of, without intent to lie. I vow to never actively deceive you."

The right corner of his mouth went up in an unamused smirk. Still, as he looked Hermione in the eyes, she imagined seeing something like understanding in them.

"Evading a question is not lying to you?"

"A girl's got to have some secrets." She wondered if she had maybe been too broad with her vow; too sure of herself. "Do you accept?"

"I do."

Hermione breathed out quietly in relief. A fiery, red stream left Kreacher's outstretched hand over theirs and weaved around both of their wrists. It felt uncomfortably hot as it settled in Hermione's skin, but it left no visible mark.

She went to let go of Regulus' pale hand, but he kept holding on. "I vow to do anything in my power to help you get rid of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, and make him mortal once more."

She already trusted him enough to know that he would. "I accept," she said nonetheless, and another burning stream laid itself on their interlocked hands.

When he had sent Kreacher away with the order to not tell anyone about their guest, the vow or a word about Horcruxes, Regulus turned to her.

"You will be staying in my brother's former bedroom." He considered her a moment. "You know him." A fact, rather than a question.

"I used to know him," she confirmed. "I don't anymore, but I plan to change that soon enough." He looked to her right hand, and she felt the tingling ghost of the vow on her skin. He seemed content with her answer and led her to Sirius' old bedroom, looking almost exactly as she remembered.

"My mother never comes upstairs, and even if she did, she would never set foot in this room." He grabbed inside his jacket pocket. "I think I trust you enough to give you back your wand."

They considered each other a moment before she reached out to take it out of his hands. She felt relieved to have her wand back in her possession, especially knowing how hard it was to work with an unfamiliar one. She still shuddered at the memory of using Bellatrix's wand before Draco somehow had managed to retrieve her own again.

"Oh, I almost forgot." His hand went back in his jacket pocket, and he retrieved a potion vial. "For your headache." He smiled innocently at her, which might have made Hermione a tad bit angry, and she took it from him without so much as a thank you. He seemed to find that even more amusing.

They bid their goodnights, and with one click of the door, Hermione was alone in a familiar - yet very unfamiliar - room.

A large, inviting bed was in the middle of the room, taking away most of the space. Hermione remembered it to have Gryffindor bed sheets the last time she saw it, but this one just had neutral black covers on.

She slumped down on the comfortable bed, ready to fall asleep after a more than tiring 24 hours, but her mind wouldn't let her. She still had so much to do, so much could go wrong. Hermione was a fish that moved in unfamiliar and dangerous waters.

* * *

Her eyes widened in shock as she woke out of a dreamless rest.

Hermione's heart was beating fast. She had fallen asleep! She still had to do the most important thing for the mission ahead; she couldn't afford to just fall asleep.

A quick look at her illuminated watch put her mind back at ease. It was still only four in the morning. With luck, everyone in the house would still be fast asleep; and if not, she was experienced enough in mind-altering magic.

She put on a silencing charm over herself before she got out of the bed, and carefully went to open the door. It seemed quiet in the house, besides the occasional snore from a sleeping portrait and the steady ticking of the grandfather clock on the floor.

Wordlessly, Hermione put on a Disillusionment Charm. She tried not to shudder as the feeling of cracking an ostrich-sized egg over her head travelled down her body. Oh, how she wished she could have just taken Harry's invisibility cloak with her, but the unknown risks of having two of the same Deathly Hallows in one timeline wasn't something she was keen to find out.

Hermione chose meticulously which steps to take down to Walburga's bedroom, going deep into her consciousness to remember which one's made creaking noises.

The back of her shirt was almost completely soaked through with sweat when she finally made it to Lady Black's bedroom unnoticed.

She listened intently for a couple of minutes, but couldn't hear anything but steady breathing, so she entered the room.

The room was in complete darkness, but Hermione could make out the bed's borders as her eyes started growing more accustomed to the blackness.

She pointed her wand at the woman in the bed and whispered a spell to make sure she wouldn't wake up. Hermione lit up her wand with a silent '_Lumos'_ and shuddered when she saw the sleeping woman's familiar features clearer.

Her face was angular, forehead high, surrounded by wavy dark hair that looked carefully and intentionally placed around her profile.

If Hermione's hatred and disgust for Walburga Black hadn't been as big as it was, she would have almost thought her beautiful, even peaceful, in her sleep.

Maybe even sorry for what she was about to do.

Alas, Hermione felt close to nothing as she summoned the small vial from her mokeskin pouch, and forced the liquid down the woman's throat with her magic.

She watched her for a couple more steady beats of her heart, then took the sleeping spell off of the Black matriarch, and let her slumber continue naturally.

When she was back in Sirius' old bedroom, the one right next to his little brother's, back under the too plush and too comfortable covers, feelings of guilt and shame washed over her.

She shook her head and turned on her side.

It wasn't deceiving him if he never asked.

* * *

**I feel like the vow part is dumb (since I don't even know if it made much sense or if it just sounds like I'm trying to be smart and humorously failing), but I also felt it necessary bc Regulus wouldn't just trust a stranger who claims to be from the future.**  
**I hope this chapter wasn't too dull, I know this story is advancing pretty slowly. But then again, it's only the third chapter.**

**Hope you have an awesome day/night!**

**Love, Kaya**


	4. the darkness gave chase

_16 April 1979_

Hermione's body was aching.

She was used to the ever-faithful feeling of hunger following her; she had been on the run for almost two years after all. Her headache since her arrival in this time was almost gone; now there was only the dull pain of her body left, springing from the cursed scar on her arm.

She was leaning across the sink, her hands against the cool of the dark granite, to get a closer look of herself. Her eyes looked sunken in and heavy-lidded due to only having slept a total of twelve hours the past week. Her jaded brown eyes stared back at her as she blinked slowly once, twice, three times. Her head should have been full of thoughts of dread or anticipation for the mission ahead, but all she longed for was sleep.

Instead, she went to take a cold shower and hoped that would be enough to get her through the day.

Hermione took a spare set of clothing - the only one she had brought with her - out of her bag and changed into a less filthy pair of jeans and shirt. Her jacket would have to do with a couple of refreshing charms until she had more time - and will - to wash it.

She waited for three hours, bored out of her mind, trying to reread a book on warding charms. She was too exhausted to even understand half of what she was pretending to read, so when Regulus finally arrived in the room, she closed the book promptly.

He was holding a tray of food in his hands, dressed in pressed, black robes and looking way too smart for just being at home. Hermione felt a little uncomfortable in her filthy streetwear.

"Miss Granger," Regulus greeted her with a slight lift of the corners of his mouth. "I brought you something to eat." He put the tray down on a table in front of the windows and conjured another chair before sitting down. "My mother left to my aunt's, so you can visit the library later if you're bored."

Hermione sat down at the table next to him. It was a simple breakfast consisting of scrambled eggs and toast and half of a grapefruit on the side. Hermione hadn't had this much food at once in a long time, and her mouth watered. Regulus watched her with his legs elegantly crossed while she started to eat, almost shoving the food in her face like Ron used to do.

"Granger isn't a wizarding name," he finally said after a stretch of only cutlery scraping against porcelain.

Hermione put down the fork and sat up straighter in her chair to be on eye level with the pureblood.

"And?" She realised her voice sounded strained, trying to still reflect friendliness even though she was ready for an attack on her heritage.

"And nothing," he said, raising his hands slightly to pacify her. "I was just trying to figure out who you might be, where your family is from."

"Don't waste your time. I haven't even been born yet." She continued to eat her food.

"So, what are you going to do then? Without an identity, a family that could take you in."

Hermione carefully chewed her food instead of answering him. She wondered if she should tell him her plans now or wait until after they went to get the locket.

"I will have a family."

He didn't seem pleased with her answer as he kept looking at her, waiting for her to elaborate.

She sighed and rolled her eyes. Holding the bottle of brown, mucky potion in her outstretched hand, she told him, "This is an altered version of polyjuice. A friend of mine invented it, he was very talented at potions." He took the bottle out of her hands to analyse it. "In order to make myself a believable enough backstory, I'm going to use this nifty potion." She knew she was still beating around the bush of her actual plan and sighed. "I guess congratulations are in order. You will have a new sister soon."

Regulus was still turning around the potion in his hands but stopped abruptly to frown at her. A simple perplexed "What?" was the only thing that came out of him.

Hermione leaned back in her seat and fidgeted with her hands in her lap. "I thought that would be the best solution as we'll be seen spending time together. If I was just a nobody mudblood hanging around you... Also, I could get Sirius to trust me easier." She grimaced into her lap. "Hopefully."

He held the potion in the air, waving it around with every word. "How exactly is this potion going to help you with that?"

Hermione closed her eyes, trying to keep herself from making a face. She knew he wasn't going to like what was about to come out of her mouth. She had thought that part could have stayed hidden maybe, but of course, Regulus would want to know how exactly it was going to work.

"It's considered dark magic, something like blood magic. Actually, no. It _is_ blood magic." Hermione was rambling and still fidgeting with her hands. She put her arms on either side of her and looked up at him. She was brave, she told herself. "I'm going to need something of your father's. Something like blood- in his case a bone, since he's dead." The last part of her sentence only came out as a mumble, and Hermione bit her lip waiting for any reaction from Regulus. He only motioned for her to continue, merely a disbelieving look on his elegant features. Hermione's voice grew a little more confident.

"Right. Something of your father, some blood from my mother because I would like to still resemble myself, and my own blood." She took the vial out of his hands to put it back in her pouch for safekeeping.

"And that's it? All of a sudden I'll just have a sister?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't doubt my father had extramarital affairs, but even he was decent enough to not sleep with a muggle."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and all her sympathy for the topic at hand was gone. "'Decent enough to not sleep with a muggle,'" she scoffed. "What do you think muggles are? They are normal human beings just like you and me. The only thing they don't have is magic, and I really don't think they are missing out on much considering the state of our world right now. Or even twenty years from now." Hermione got wound up more and more with every word leaving her mouth until she was standing in the middle of the room.

It was dumb of her to get this angry, she thought, _of course_, he was a pureblood prat. It had taken Malfoy weeks of staying in a muggle hotel before he even tried talking to the snack shop lady.

She swallowed her pride. "Sorry." Her voice was still a bit snappy, and she didn't even try to hide the glare she sent him. She sat back down and started eating the grapefruit to distract herself.

He was looking out the window, not even glancing a look at her when he spoke next. "I should be apologising." He continued looking out the window, not apologising.

Hermione huffed out a breath. That's all she was going to get, she surmised.

"So let's say my father slept with a muggle, and you pretend to be my sister. What about after, Miss Granger? When we're done with the Horcruxes. Are you going to still play my sister, or go back?"

"Back? There is no back anymore, I already told you. There is only now. And I don't know. I guess I'll have to build myself a life here. I can get out of your hair once we're done, however. You won't ever have to see your sister again."

All that they had planned was to get the Horcruxes, kill Voldemort and end the war. Wasn't that enough? Did she have to have a plan on what she was going to do after? Would she even survive long enough for there to be an after?

She didn't want to think about it.

"Miss Granger-" Regulus' voice startled Hermione out of her thoughts. She didn't know what he was going to say; she didn't really want to know, so she cut him off.

"Please, Lord Black. Call me Hermione. We'll be siblings soon, after all."

Hermione cleared her throat, and with that, hopefully, her mind. "Anyway, thank you for the food. I'll be taking you up on that offer to go to the library now."

Hermione spent the rest of her free time alone in the Black library perusing the well-kept and looked after books until Kreacher came to get her in the afternoon because the Lady Back had returned home.

"Master Regulus' guest needs to go back to the room now," he had said still with a wary look in her direction anytime she even dared to move, and she had huffed a laugh. Nevertheless, it definitely was a step up from being called a filthy mudblood.

* * *

Shortly before midnight, Kreacher and Regulus came into the room. Kreacher was shaking with fear, his skin greyer than usual. His master, on the other hand, didn't let his face show any emotion. He was still dressed in his beautiful, black robes, looking like he was about to attend a funeral.

"It's time," he said courtly, and Kreacher took both of their hands and apparated them to the entrance of the cave.

The cold wind from the outside was blowing loudly between the stone walls and making their robes billow around them. Hermione could smell the salty waters from outside, and see a sliver of the dark sea, illuminated by the silvery moonlight.

She turned to the wall farthest from Kreacher, as he looked on with dread in his eyes.

"This is the entrance." She pulled a small dagger from inside her borrowed robe. "It needs some blood to open up. A little dramatic, if you ask me."

She went to cut open her skin, but a hand on hers stopped her.

"This one is my burden," he said without looking at her. He cut into his palm quickly, not leaving himself time to flinch, and smeared his bright red blood on the door.

They went inside, their steps echoing loudly in the halls.

"Kreacher does not wish to go inside, Master Regulus, no he does not." The house-elf whimpered from the threshold of the door, his eyes shut tight and head shaking.

"Please, Kreacher," Hermione said, slowly stepping up to the frightened elf to not scare him away. "We need you. Without you, this mission is going to fail. We won't be able to leave this cave."

Kreacher opened his eyes and looked towards his master.

"I promised you, Kreacher. After tonight you will never have to think about this cave again. Everything will be all right."

Kreacher whimpered again but started walking up to them.

"The Dark Lord took an invisible boat up to the island." He pointed a long finger to the island in the middle of the water. It was almost impossible to see, only brightened slightly by a dim greenish light. Even their illuminated wand tips didn't make much of a difference in the dark cave.

"We won't be able to both take the boat together, and I'd rather not risk rousing the Inferi anyway. Kreacher, could you please apparate us?" The house-elf finally glanced a look at her and nodded his head.

The temperature on the island felt even colder than at the entrance. The eerie light coming from the basin cast shadows on their faces, making them look almost skeletal.

The island itself was almost too small for two humans and a house-elf to comfortably stand on without accidentally touching the infested lake, and risk getting drowned.

Hermione held her wand tip closer to the dark water and almost screamed out when she saw a pale limb (arm or leg?) floating close to the surface.

"Right, let's not touch the water." She got back up to the basin.

"Do I just drink it then?" Regulus' voice was low but echoed from the high cave walls as if he had shouted.

"Master Regulus can't drink the horrible poison, no! Kreacher will drink it."

Regulus turned to Kreacher with an appreciative smile and put his hand on the trembling house-elf.

"You have done enough, Kreacher. I will not let you go through this again." He turned back to the basin and conjured himself a golden chalice. Kreacher was about to open his mouth again, but Regulus was faster. "That is an order." The elf whimpered but didn't move to do anything else.

"You will feel like your insides are burning, and it will make you relive your worst memories." Hermione's face was glum. "I'm sorry."

Regulus filled the cup with the potion and looked at it for a second before downing it in one swig.

* * *

_17 April 1979_

The screaming didn't start right away.

At first, it was only a burning feeling that made his throat itch and plead for water. He continued drinking in silence until the fire spread from his throat to first his stomach, then his head. He felt disoriented as if his arms were his legs, or maybe it was the whole world that had decided to turn upside down.

On his fourth cup, the memories started.

_He was standing in the hallway at the front door, his back straight and hands interlocked at his back. The loud voices from upstairs were getting closer with every beat of his heart._

"No, please don't go, no."

_"If you leave this house now, you will not be welcomed back! Do you hear me?" His mother's voice was shrill._

_"Good! I've never wanted anything to do with you lot, anyway!" The Hogwarts trunk landed in the hallway before he even saw his brother. He was limping slightly, his long black hair clinging against his face with sweat, but his determination got him down the stairs fast._

_His father joined him standing in the hallway, looking straight forward, his eyes never leaving the strangely still painting above Regulus' head._

"Please stop him, father, say something please." He could feel the cool of the cup on his lips again, forcing them open and tripling the fire inside of him.

_Sirius collected his strewn out clothing and hastily stuffed everything back in the trunk._

"Don't leave me all alone here, please!"

_He stopped in front of Regulus, trying to catch his sight._

_"Come with me, Reg. We can find a place together, get away from these crazy bastards."_

"Please, take me with you!" Regulus fell on his knees, his pants ripped from the sharp stones on the small island. Every ragged breath he took seemed to cut at his throat.

_"I could never betray my family like that." He looked his brother in his resentful eyes. "This wouldn't have happened had you been a better son."_

"No, no, no!" Someone tried to get him back up, but all they could manage was lift him up into their arms. His face turned towards the unfamiliar warmth, and he buried his shame in it.

"Water, please," he begged. His voice was raw, and it hurt to swallow.

"Soon, Regulus. Just one more cup, please." He tried to open his eyes wider to see the girl the voice was coming from, but all he saw was blurred shapes.

He shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks, but he swallowed the liquid fire.

_Bellatrix came up behind him and took his outstretched hand in hers._

_"Avada Kedavra," they both said in unison, and the muggle fell over face down in his own piss._

"I don't want to kill anyone else."

Cold hands wiped away the wet on his face.

"You won't have to kill anyone else."

_They were all standing in a line, their black robes and silver masks making them indistinguishable from one another. Seven people were brought out, almost all of them in his year, almost all of them convinced by him to join the cause._

_He could see Barty in the middle of them, his curly brown hair bouncing with every step he took, a satisfied smile on his face._

The cup was on his lips again, and he downed it without a word.

The voices in his head were still screaming; at each other, at him, just to be loud, he wasn't sure. They were increasing and decreasing in volume in no particular pattern, and all Regulus wanted was for them to stop.

Every part of his body was heavy, and he could barely move. Still, when the cold metal touched his lips again, he forced his head higher and drank.

"That was the last one. You did it, Regulus." He felt her arms around him, suffocating him, but he was too weak to do anything.

"Water."

"I brought some with me, hold on a minute." He could make out her blurry shape taking off the bag she had brought with her, but it was all taking too long. Why did he have to wait for her when there was a pool full of water right next to him?

He rolled over on his bloody knees and started to crawl towards the black water. Something from within made the surface ripple as he reached out for the lake. He saw his reflection, a deathly pale arm, reach out too, but before he could even feel the wet on his fingers, he was yanked back by the collar of his robes.

"Kreacher is sorry, Master Regulus!"

He fell hard on his back, down on the sharp stones surrounding the little island, but any pain that might have come with his landing was forgotten due to the fire already taking over his whole body.

He was back in the warm embrace, cradling him like an infant. Regulus wanted to struggle against it, scream at the girl to let him go, but he felt weaker every second he lay there.

"Please, no more." The metal touched his lips again, but he was too weak to protest the liquid going down his throat. He waited for a fiery burn, but as none came along, he took the bottle in both his hands, almost drowning because of the rush of fresh water.

His head was getting clearer, his limbs stronger, but only so much as to not fall into dark oblivion. Hermione (he remembered her name now) took the empty bottle away from him, eliciting a small cry to leave his lips. He was still thirsty, his body still on fire.

There was still a lake of water next to him.

"Here drink this," she said, her voice sounding far away from him as he felt the enchanting dark water calling his name.

A small vial touched his lips, and he felt his mouth moving against the glass.

"What is that?"

"It will make you feel better." She sniffled, and he realised only later that she must have been crying.

He drank every last drop she gave him, and it did make him feel better. He could make out more than blurry shadows, and hear every sound echoed by the cave walls louder than before. Still, his body ached for more water.

"Kreacher, take Regulus and put him to bed. If he asks for water, give it to him. Come back for me once he is asleep." Her voice was closer now, and Regulus wanted to object, they couldn't just leave her here alone. But Kreacher already had his leathery hand in his before Regulus could even command his mouth to open up, and with a pull, they were gone.


	5. down, deeper down

**Chapter Text**

_17 April 1979 _

His hair was sticking to his forehead, his sweat-soaked clothes clinging to his skin. His body was burning up, but he felt like he was still lying on the sharp stones of the cold cave, and involuntary shivers took over his body. This was not a dream, he knew that. He could feel his mind was awake. So why wasn't he able to move a muscle, lift a finger, open his eyes? His brain was sending the commands, he knew that, but it was as if this body was not his to control, slave to whatever that poison had done to it; was doing to it.

He could make out that it was early in the morning. The birds outside his windows were singing their shrill melodies, torture to his aching head. The sun was shining through the glass (nobody had bothered to draw the curtains), warming his burning and shivering body. His eyes were still closed, but he could see the fiery red lights dancing behind his lids, lulling him back into the warm embrace of sleep, to rest his broken mind and body.

With a sudden jerk, his back left the plush covers of his bed, not by his command but as if possessed. He hoped his subconscious, at least, would direct him away from his bed, his clothes.

He hadn't eaten since breakfast the day before, so anything that left his stomach was acidic bile, leaving behind a sour taste, and his eyes watery. He didn't feel any better after, but he was glad to be finally able to open his eyes and maybe get up if his shuddering body would let him.

Regretfully, his subconscious had failed him. The contents of his stomach lay half on his clothes, half on the side of the bed (some had even made it on the beautiful oriental carpet). His head was pounding, his body aching, and all he wanted was to lie back in bed, sweat out this flu-like poison, but he was covered in sick, and he had to check up on his guest to make sure all his suffering had led them to success.

With a heavy groan that was not becoming for a Lord of the House of Black, he got up on unsteady legs, making his way over to his ensuite very slowly. The journey to the sink felt like an eternity to his delirious state. He woke up slightly when his naked feet touched the cold floor of the bathroom, and he managed to all but throw himself against the sink and bury his head under icy water.

The coldness of the water and the black nothing caused by his shut eyes transported him back to only a couple hours ago, crying on an island surrounded by a lake full of living dead people. He heaved his head up with a panicked gasp causing his wet hair to splash water on the mirror. His face was slightly distorted by the droplets, eyes wide and breathing heavily. He needed to get a grip on himself.

Regulus looked at himself closer in the mirror, his breathing all but a whisper against his reflection. His skin seemed pale, almost grey, and his pupils were so dilated he looked like Sirius had when he had found Andromeda's secret stash in the family estate in France. He sometimes missed the times when he was still able to pretend like there was nothing wrong with his family or life.

It took Regulus another ten minutes to change into sick-free clothing, and resemble a person that was somewhat alive before he made his way to Hermione's room. She slammed the door open on his second knock.

"Do you not have anything else to wear?" was the first thing that left his mouth when he saw her. She was still in the clothing she had worn to the cave, and if he closed his eyes, he could smell the sea and dead on her. He hadn't even meant to say it, but it was too late to take it back. Her relieved face from seeing him alive and standing fell at once.

She rolled her eyes, and he was worried for a second that he had said something wrong again when he saw the slight smile. "You purebloods are all the same," she mumbled and led him into the room. "I'm glad to see you're well enough to insult my fashion sense." Hermione sat down at the table where two cups of tea were sitting on top. "Kreacher's been hounding me all morning; 'Miss Granger this, Miss Granger that.' It feels really bizarre, you know. He used to hate me." She took a sip of her steaming cup and motioned for him to sit with her. "He wouldn't stop asking me if I wanted anything, so I finally just asked him for tea, and he looked so happy, I kind of felt bad that I didn't ask sooner."

"Horcrux hunting seems to bring people together. Who would have thought." Hermione exhaled loudly into her tea and mumbled something about weasels that he ignored because there were more pressing matters to tend to. "Speaking of Horcruxes; everything went well?"

She wordlessly reached inside of her shirt, and Regulus averted his eyes while she did so. He didn't want to be improper or have her think he was some kind of sleaze, especially if she was to be his sister.

"I hate to have it back around my neck, but it felt safest."

"How do we destroy it then?" Hermione looked exhausted already, and from the little she had told him about the effects of Horcruxes, he imagined her to fall over or succumb to the evil in no time. It wasn't entirely because he didn't trust her; he mostly didn't trust himself around it. It might have been his imagination, he thought, that made it feel like the darkness surrounding the locket called out to him, caressing his thoughts and promising him everything he desired. Whatever it was, it made his skin crawl.

"My friends and I used the Gryffindor sword that had absorbed basilisk poison." She gave him a once over. "I bet you have some connections in Knockturn Alley who can keep their mouth shut if you provide them with enough gold."

"Even with my connections, it would take a while before we could get our hands on it."

She quietly sipped on her tea for a moment. "Do you know how to wield Fiendfyre then?"

He scoffed. He may be a son of one of the oldest pureblood houses, but even they didn't get taught how to handle the hellfire beasts. Not for lack of asking from Bellatrix's side.

"I thought so. I researched it, of course, in case we wouldn't be able to find the venom, but I never tried. I have seen it go wrong once, didn't really fancy a repeat of that." Her eyes were trained on the carpet while she absentmindedly played with the rim of her cup. "The smell of burning flesh settles into your clothes, and it's impossible to get out." They fell quiet, only the slight clatter of her cup any time she brought it up to her lips as if in a trance.

"That explains your lack of clothing, I suppose."

"That might be it." She hadn't laughed (not that it had been a particularly funny joke), but at least his boldness snapped her out of her thoughts. "We have some time to learn. There are still four other Horcruxes we have to get. I imagine the Diadem would be the next best target for you since you will be leaving for Hogwarts again soon. Oh, right, I forgot to tell you," she said when his eyebrows went up at the mention of Hogwarts. "Rowena Ravenclaws Diadem is one of the Horcruxes, and it's hidden in the Room of Requirement."

His eyebrows seemed to have found a new home hidden behind his hair, as he was still looking at her bewildered. Ravenclaw's lost Diadem? The Room of Requirement? Both rumours he had heard of before, but he had thought that was all there was to it.

Before he could ask about any more information she was willing to share, they were interrupted by loud howling. Both of them were at their feet at once; Hermione with her wand already in her hand, and Regulus swaying a bit from the sudden motion. The howling grew louder, and Regulus was sure that the whole neighbourhood would have heard were it not for the protective wards around the house.

Kreacher was on his knees in the master bedroom, holding his mistresses hand in his.

"Master Regulus, Kreacher has tried everything but the Mistress wo- won't wake up!"

Regulus felt his blood rush his head, and his eyes could only see his mother lying in her bed. What do you mean she's not waking up, he wanted to ask, but his body stopped listening to him yet again. He gently reached for her hand. He should have felt relieved at the feeling of her pulse beneath his fingers, but his thumping heart didn't lessen the beating.

"Mother," he croaked out, shaking her whole arm, but she didn't seem to even notice or care. He felt a hand on his shoulder guiding him to move to the side. Hermione cast multiple spells that made different coloured bubbles float over his mother's body and seemed to understand what they meant so he let her, while his knees gave out and he sank to the floor. His chest felt like it was being crushed by an invisible boulder. He tried counting his breathing like Cissa had taught him when he was younger, but it didn't seem to help as the rock grew heavier and heavier over his lungs. He could still hear Kreacher's wailing, and Hermione's mumbled spells, but it sounded like they were in another room, and not standing right next to him. The dim light in the room seemed to get brighter with every constrained breath, so he closed his eyes.

"-ulus." Someone was shaking him. "Regulus, hey. You're having a panic attack, you need to calm down." He snorted (at least he thought he did). As if he didn't know he needed to calm down. What did she think he was trying to do? He shook her hand away from his arm. It as getting too constricting again, as if the walls were closing in on him, and her warmth didn't help.

She seemed to understand and let go to sit down cross-legged in front of him. "Let's meditate," she said. "It always helps me to focus on my Occlumency training. Clear your mind and breathe." Her eyes closed, and her breathing slowed. Regulus' was still going rampant, and he felt like shouting at her, or just in general, but there was not enough oxygen for him to do anything but curse her out in his head. His mother was unconscious in her bed, not even two feet away from them, and he could still hear Kreacher sobbing loudly. How did she expect him to just calm down and breathe?

He watched her for what felt like hours, just meditating and breathing calmly, while his heart threatened to explode out of his chest. His glares didn't seem to bother her at all, so after a while, he mirrored her and closed his eyes in a cross-legged pose. It was hard to clear his mind and focus on his Occlumency shields from the noises around him, be it from the house-elf or his own body. But he did manage, and he felt his heartbeat and breathing slow down to a more reasonable pace. He was still filing his memories away in different categories when a sweet smell made him open his eyes.

"You should eat some chocolate to make you feel better." She was holding out a sliced orange, but chocolate. "Don't worry, it's not going to kill you, it's just muggle chocolate." He took a slice and let it melt on his tongue. It didn't come close to chocolate frogs (which were his favourite), but the hint of orange went well with the chocolate, so he took another slice.

"I need to get her to St Mungo's."

"I don't think they will be able to do much for her. You should still go, of course." She only added the second sentence when his furrowed eyes met hers.

"Why do you say that?"

She fidgeted with her position on the floor before looking back in his direction, but not in his eyes.

"I learned some healing while on the run, and from what I can tell, she seems to be in a coma. I don't think she'll wake up from it."

Regulus felt nausea rise up in his throat but forced it down. What did she know anyway? She wasn't a healer.

"Kreacher, pack my mother a bag. I'm taking her to St Mungo's."

* * *

It had still been early in the morning when they arrived, and most staff were sluggish on their feet, either from having had a long night of dealing with sick and injured people or from having just arrived at their post. Regulus explained what had happened to a bored blonde who had hair almost as big as Hermione's. When she realised who he was, and who the patient was her demeanour changed and she led him to a private room, so Kreacher could apparate his mother over without anyone else knowing.

That had been almost three hours ago, and Regulus was now sitting at one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs, his eyes closed and legs crossed at the ankles. He could feel Hermione watching him from the corner of the room. She hadn't stopped watching him since his little panic attack, and it was getting on his nerves. Still, he was grateful to have her with him while Kreacher was off bringing the news to his family. After the day he had, he wasn't very keen on their presence.

"Regulus?" His eyes opened and searched for Hermione when he heard the familiar voice, but she was already gone.

"Barty. What are you doing here?"

"My mother had an appointment." He sat down next to him. "But nevermind that. I heard about your mother. Is she all right?" Regulus huffed an annoyed breath. What good was money when it didn't keep the rumours at bay?

"The healers haven't said much. I'm still waiting." Barty nodded, biting his lip.

"Do you want me to wait with you? Don't really fancy going back home anyway."

Regulus smiled at him lightly. They hadn't known each other for long, only since the seventh year potions class had paired them up as partners, and they only had started seeing each other less time than that. If seeing was even the word for it. Barty had kissed him one night without a warning after his father had sent him a letter of how he didn't approve of his new friend circle, which had led to more than just kissing. They only ever met if Barty was mad at his father.

Regulus didn't directly answer him. "My aunt will be here soon. I imagine Bellatrix too."

Barty's eyes grew hard at the mention of her name. "I'm not scared of that bitch."

He felt his mouth begin to move to defend his cousin, but he shut it when he saw shadows rounding the corner to the waiting room.

"Speak of the devil," muttered Barty. And then louder, he added, "I should go now. See you at Hogwarts." He ducked his head down to not look Bellatrix directly in the eyes, and Regulus shook his head slightly. So much for him not being scared of her.

Regulus got up to greet his aunt first with a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you for coming. I haven't heard anything yet, but she seems to be stable at least."

His aunt patted his arm and sniffed into her handkerchief. "It's like someone put a curse on our family. First, your father, now your mother. And you haven't even heard what happened to my Narcissa yet, have you?"

"Mother!" the girl in question interrupted with a wavering voice. "I don't think this is the time and place to do this." Her legs seemed to give out under her, as she went to the other corner of the room to sit down and pretend to not cry.

"Oh, I apologise for her behaviour," his aunt sniffed again, but no tears seemed to want to come out. "She's miscarried again."

"I'm sorry," Regulus said because he didn't know what else to say to that. He watched Narcissa's shaking form, trying to keep her composure, and did feel sorry for her. It hadn't been her first miscarriage, and he couldn't imagine how she must feel going through it again. Her mother joined her, whispering soothing words to her that didn't seem to help.

"Hey, Reggie." Bellatrix came up next to him with a little grin on her face, linking her arm in his. "Don't mind them, they have been a little on edge lately with everything that's been going on." She looked like she wanted to roll her eyes, but didn't. Instead, she came close up to his face. "Oh, Reggie," she sighed in a mocking tone. "Don't tell me you've been crying too. You need to be strong right now, or everyone will come down on you like vultures. The Prophet, the sacred families, _our Lord _." Her fingers dug into his skin, and it hurt even though layers of fabric were protecting him. "Of course, it's also not becoming of a Lord of-"

"Of the House of Black. I know." He separated their linked arms and tried to stand taller, but they were the same height. "Thank you, Bella." He gave her a tight-lipped smile and made his way over to his aunt and Narcissa, almost hearing the exaggerated eye roll that followed him.

* * *

_20 April 1979 _

Three days had passed since his mother's sudden departure to the hospital. It seemed like everyone had heard by now, and every hour at least two owls reached Regulus either with a note of how sorry they were or how his family deserved everything that had happened to them. He had stopped reading them after the third letter.

Even the Dark Lord had sent him a note with Narcissa. Regulus had found some amusement imagining the Dark Lord trying to tame an uncontrollable owl, finally giving up and instructing Lucius to deliver him the note. The note itself wasn't anything significant, just a polite reminder that even with everything going on, Regulus was expected to fulfil his duties in recruiting young Death Eaters when he went back to Hogwarts.

Regulus groaned, and fell facedown in his bed, happy to be back in his room, surrounded by his own walls instead of the garish white of St Mungos. The hospital, besides his overbearing aunt and his mother being in a coma, had been good for his health after the poison. His body felt stronger every day, and his mind cleared from the fog that he thought had permanently settled over it.

Though he did feel like with every day that he was getting better, his mother's situation was getting worse.

"You're back." He grunted his answer, too tired to move. With his left eye open, he made out Hermione, still in her battered outfit, standing at his doorway. "How are you?" He felt his mattress dip where she sat down.

"They gave me a calming draught at the hospital and forced me to sleep, so I think I'm better now." He slowly sat up against his headboard and looked at her. She was looking out the window, her body bent in a way that looked uncomfortable. "I have to leave for Hogwarts soon. We should get that potion of yours ready."

She turned her gaze to him, obviously relieved she didn't have to bring up the potion.

"I hope you don't mind, I asked Kreacher for help in getting something of your father's already. With everything that's going on, I felt it best not to have you witness that." She laughed a hollow laugh, her eyes darting around his face, never sure where to stick.

He nodded his head. He didn't exactly know if it was better to be there for one's father's grave digging or just have some practical stranger to you do it with your house-elf, but he felt a weight lifted from his shoulders nonetheless.

"All that's left is your mother's blood then? Do you have a plan?"

She started nodding her head but shook it 'no' midway through.

"Comforting."

"It won't be that hard, I imagine. I'm just going to knock on their door, tell them a story of how my car broke down and I need to call my boyfriend to have him come get me. It's not like they even have to believe it. I just need to get into the house without trouble, and where people can't see me do magic."

Regulus looked at her impressed, or maybe in awe, he didn't know himself. He was surprised to hear her talk about using magic on her muggle parents so readily, though. (He also looked a bit confused at the mention of a telephone but hoped she didn't notice his repeated ignorance to the muggle world. At least he knew what a car was.)

After they had some food, Hermione took his arm and apparated them into an empty park. They landed hidden somewhere between a big tree and an awful smelling public toilet. She laughed at his expression and led him away to walk the rest of the way to their destination.

It was a quiet neighbourhood that the Granger's lived in. The houses looked all the same (some dull beige brick) connected to each other. Every family seemed to be well off enough to own at least one car and keep their garden in pristine shape.

Hermione halted in her step, and he almost ran into her while he was distracted, trying to figure out how exactly a telephone worked.

"There they are." She nodded her head to a couple unloading a crib from the boot of their car.

He immediately recognised the young woman as Hermione's mother. While her hair was even curlier and darker than hers, her skin a couple shades deeper, their faces looked almost the same. If they stood next to each other, they could have been mistaken for siblings. Her father was a little older than his wife (Regulus assumed he was in his late thirties), his skin tanned as if they had just come back from a holiday in the Mediterranean and his hair blond. It took Regulus some closer looking to see any resemblance Hermione bore to him. Her nose was the same roman shape as her fathers, a smattering of freckles dusted over, but that was all.

"You do look a lot like your mother," he said after watching them unload their shopping for a while.

"Yeah." Her eyes never left her parents motions. "I do hope the potion will make me keep my looks. It's the only thing I have left of my mother's. I never looked much like my father anyway. You know once," she let out a wet sounding laugh, and Regulus averted his eyes from her, not sure if she was comfortable with him seeing her cry. "I think I was about five. My father took me to the library alone, because I loved the library and wouldn't shut up about going, and he was always easier to convince than my mother. On our way back, this older woman, we didn't know her, she took my hand and ripped me away from him because she just didn't want to believe that he was my father. We had to wait close to an hour for the police to arrive and calm her down." He saw her wipe away tears with the back of her hand. "The woman may have had only the best intention in mind, but after that, my father and I never went anywhere alone again, only when my mother was free. I loved him, I did, but I think we never knew each other that well; not like I knew my mother."

Regulus felt awkward standing next to a crying girl, watching the parents that weren't really hers, unload their car with shopping for their expected baby. When they were younger, and Narcissa used to cry (because she used to cry about everything), he would go and hug her. She always told him that his embrace managed to squeeze all her sadness away. He didn't know Hermione well enough to hug her, and he also had stopped hugging people at one point in his life, so he hoped that a hand on her shoulder would be enough.

She turned to him with a tight-lipped smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Ugh, I'm sorry." She shook herself and patted her reddened cheeks, and Regulus' hand fell away. "Here I am talking about my mother while your mother is dy- is in the hospital."

"You think she is dying?" Regulus kept looking at her, even after she had shifted her face from his. Her hands were clenched into a fist, and he noticed her knuckles turning a lighter shade.

"Well it doesn't look good, does it?"

Regulus put down his robe at the base of a nearby tree and sat down, forgetting everything about how a Lord Black should act. No one around here knew him anyway, why should he care.

"The healers seem to not want to talk to me, so I don't think she's getting any better." He rested his head on his arms and watched the couple go into the house holding hands.

He saw Hermione open her mouth to say something, but decide against it at the last second.

"I think I can go now," she finally said, and he watched her walk down the dirt path towards the house, hugging herself the whole time.

* * *

_21 April 1979 _

Hermione had apparated them straight back to Grimmauld Place after she came back out of her parents' house, her face glowing red and tears silently streaming down. Regulus didn't say or ask anything, and she locked herself in her room for the rest of the day, not even letting Kreacher in to bring her some food.

Before he had left for the hospital to see if there were any news about his mother's situation, he put a chocolate frog at the foot of her door.

It was close to late afternoon when he came back, and he was about to go into his room to change when the door behind him opened.

"I got Miranda Goshawk. Always thought her writing was rather dry, even for school book standards." She was leaning against the wall studying the card. "At least Lockhart made his lies exciting to read. Though you never learned anything."

"Lockhart? As in Gilderoy Lockhart?" Regulus laughed, and it felt a little strange after so many days without. "That fool can't even banish a simple Boggart."

"Believe me, we found out the hard way," Hermione said with a grave face before laughing too. Her face turned more serious again. "I have everything ready for the potion if you want to join me."

She went back into the room without waiting for an answer, and Regulus followed her. There was a small copper cauldron sitting on top of the table with the mudlike potion bubbling up every so often. Next to it was a bottle of her mother's blood (red, just like any witches would be), and something covered with a handkerchief. He felt a little sick thinking about his father's bones just sitting on the table, but didn't say anything.

"I was thinking," she started talking while covering the cauldron from his view as she put in the bones with a _plop._ "now that I'm going to be family, shouldn't I have some kind of star name? I always thought it was a nice tradition, and what kind of sister would I be to break tradition?" She looked up at him with a tired but amused face, after stirring the potion two times counterclockwise and three clockwise.

"I always thought I would name my daughter Lyra if I got the chance."

She furrowed her eyebrows. "Hermione Lyra Granger. Or Black, if I am to be a legitimised bastard." She reached for the vial of blood and didn't look at it as she stirred it in slowly. "Hmm, no. I think you should keep that option for your daughter."

"What about Adhara?" he asked after a moment of silence.

"What does it mean?" She went over to the bed, reached under the pillow and came back with a dagger in her hand. Regulus raised his brows slightly but didn't say anything.

"Maiden, I think."

She laughed. "Do I look like a maiden in need of rescuing?" She cut her skin open without flinching and let the fresh blood drip into the cauldron.

"Definitely not." He, too, was grinning at the ridiculous spectacle in front of him. "It's the second brightest star in Canis Major, you just remind me of him."

Her grin dropped into more of a pitying smile that Regulus usually hated, but he didn't mind it much while she was bleeding into a potion that was going to make her his family.

"And here I thought you were calling me a dog in some kind of smart insult."

She took the handkerchief and covered her wound with it instead of closing it with a simple spell, and started mixing all the ingredients together. Regulus heard her muttering with every turn of the ladle, but couldn't make out what language it was, only that it sounded old and made him feel like a dark presence had settled in with them.

Hermione stopped stirring, and they waited for a couple of breaths for something to happen.

"Cheers, then." She held the ladle up to her mouth, but before she could drink it, he stopped her with a hand on hers.

"I know you have come so far, and it's a little ridiculous of me to question you so late but," he swallowed, but the apprehension for her answer didn't leave him. "Dark magic like this almost always requires a sacrifice."

Hermione looked at him, her face bold and her shoulders squared, but she didn't answer his non-question. He breathed in deep.

"Who are you going to kill, Hermione?" She dropped the ladle back into the potion and turned her gaze away. He had learned over the days that she did it whenever she tried to look for an answer to his questions that wasn't an outright lie.

"No one." She was still looking on the ground. "Ouch!" Her left hand went to cover her wrist. "That wasn't even a lie! No one that matters is going to die from this."

Regulus studied her face, and he saw the tears threatening to leave her eyes.

"You're not a good liar, you know that?"

"Never have been." She sighed deeply. "It's really not anyone that matters. Just myself." She saw his perplexed face, and explained further, "You saw my parents yesterday unloading the crib and all the new toys for their baby, for me. Well, there can't be two of us, can there." Her laugh sounded hollow as she started stirring the potion again that had started to separate. "I need he- I need my life to be able to continue living here. So once my birthday comes... you know. My parents are going to be heartbroken, but they'll get over it." Tears started running down her face again, and Regulus wished he had kept his mouth shut. "I think I might send them to Australia again. They seemed to have liked it last time." Her face turned into a grimace with her next laugh. "This time I'll let them keep their memories though."

"I'm sorry." His voice was low, and for once it was him not able to look her in her eyes.

She shook her head. "I'm sorry for trying to lie." She stopped stirring. "Cheers," she said again and brought the ladle to her lips.

Hermione swallowed three mouthfuls before she fell to the floor, unconscious.

* * *

_22 April 1979 _

If someone were to ask Hermione to describe what it felt like taking a potion that rewrote your parentage, she would say it felt like pure shite.

She imagined it felt precisely like taking Skele-gro after breaking every single bone in your body, but ten times worse. She could feel her bones stretching and reforming her structure, and her skin burn every so often as if someone was holding a lighter too close to it.

Hermione didn't know how long she had been asleep, but when she woke up, everything was dark, and she was alone. She tried calling out for Regulus or for Kreacher, but her voice felt too raw.

She struggled even just leaving the bed to go get some water from the tap. Her legs felt shaky, unused to balance a body a couple of inches taller, and she imagined she looked like Bambi taking his first steps. It felt different than taking a normal Polyjuice somehow. Both potions changed your physical appearance, but with the former Hermione had never felt wrong or unwelcome in her own body (only when she had to become Bellatrix that one time).

She made her way slowly to the bathroom, holding on to the wall with dear life and tripping over anything and everything that even dared to cross her path.

A sigh of relief left her mouth when she made out her still curly hair in the mirror. She lit up the candles with a flick of her wand and almost yelled when she saw her reflection. For a second, she had thought it to be Bellatrix instead of herself watching her with redrimmed eyes. She felt stupid the longer she looked at herself.

Her face shape looked different, more narrow and haughty like, but other than that she looked mostly like herself still. Her hair was the curly mess that it had always been, and while it was darker now the thought of her mother's own black hair made her feel less bitter about the change. Her eyes were still a deep brown colour, slightly more slanted upwards like Sirius' were; her lips still their own shape, and her skin the same deep tan it had always been, though the flawless unfreckled nose made her eyes sting a little.

A movement from behind her in the mirror made her turn around. Kreacher was crouching on his knees in front of her, looking at her with his big bulgy eyes.

"Mistress," he whispered over and over.


	6. when you're a stranger

_23 April 1979_

The place was too quiet, even for a Monday night. The hopeless and lost seemed to have found better things to do than sit alone in a grimy pub, listening to old muggle music and getting drunker by the hour.

Not Sirius Black.

This muggle pub had always been his favourite. Mostly because it was close to his place and no one ever bothered him. The bartender, Allan, was an old bloke who liked to talk about his time in the war, and Sirius liked to listen to the deep surly voice telling him about the similar horrors they were going through. Death and destruction didn't care if you were a muggle or a wizard.

He sat at the sticky counter, back slumped in a way that would make his mother pass out if she ever saw him. His harsh snort disturbed the liquid in his glass, causing tiny waves to crash against it. She was already in a coma; maybe his slouching would finally be the death of her. The liquor burned as it went down his oesophagus, and he ordered himself another one.

Someone sat down next to him, but he didn't look up. He wasn't here to pick up anyone. He was just here to celebrate with himself.

"Can you suggest anything to drink?" said the person next to him. It sounded like a girls' voice, but the drinks had made him too lazy even to check.

"I just get the whiskey." He cleared his throat to try to sound a little less drunk; it didn't work too well. "Don't know much 'bout mug- 'bout alcohol."

"Thank you." She mumbled her order to Allan. "Regular whiskey seems rather lacking, though, once you had a taste of firewhiskey."

The alcohol muddled his senses, so it took him a minute to understand the meaning of her words. When he did, his head shot up in a dizzying speed.

She looked familiar, he thought, though he was sure he had never seen her before, not even at Hogwarts. Her hair was curly, and light coming from behind her made it light up like a halo surrounding her face. She smiled at him when their eyes met, but he didn't smile back.

"And who are you?" He tried not to sound too hostile, but he was wary, watching her every move. Constant vigilance, as Moody always liked to warn them as parting words.

"Hermione Granger." She put her hand out for him to shake, and he did more out of reflex than will. "You are a tough person to track down, Sirius Black."

His senses were now on high alert. His eyes were locked on her hands, watching out for any hasty moves to her wand. She didn't look like a Death Eater, but neither did his brother.

"And why would you need to track me down?"

"I just wanted to tell you the good news in person. Have you meet me before my face is plastered all over the Daily Prophet." She took a big gulp of her drink and grimaced before speaking again. "I'm your sister."

He laughed out loud (which earned him a stern look from Allan) and rolled his eyes, reaching back to his forgotten tumbler.

"I only have an idiot little brother. If it's galleons, you're after you have the wrong Black. I was burned off the tapestry years ago, don't imagine I'll be getting anything even if the bitch dies."

A sister. He chuckled to himself again. He had heard long lost cousin before, but no one had been stupid enough to claim to be his sister.

"I am not after any galleons." He looked at her tattered clothing. It could have been a fashion statement, he supposed, though her embarrassed face when she noticed his observation told him otherwise. "That idiot little brother of yours already knows about me; we really are siblings."

"So what." He ordered two more whiskeys for them. He didn't believe her, but he also didn't think she was a threat to him, so he wanted to hear her story. "My parents gave you up because you were a girl and they wanted an heir? Or are you a bastard child, born out of wedlock?" He grinned and slid the other glass of whiskey towards her.

"Bastard." He snorted, but she didn't seem bothered. "And get this: I'm half-blood."

He laughed again, his amusement sounding louder in the silent pub.  
"It could have been a somewhat believable story."

"You want proof? Let's go to Grimmauld Place, and I'll show you the tapestry." She grabbed her jacket from the other stool and looked ready to go.

"Anyone could alter that tapestry," he said, taking another sip of his drink and not even bothering to look at her anymore. She was right, he would have prefered firewhiskey. "Besides, I bet they changed the wards so I can't enter that house anymore. Not that I'd want to."

She took his tumbler out of his hands, and he tried to grab it back, but she was faster. "I get that you don't believe me, but at least have enough decency to listen to me." She drowned his whiskey with one gulp, and he did nothing but watch her. "You know, I'm staying in your old room. You went a little heavy with the sparingly clad women, but I suppose that was more to anger your parents. They don't seem like your type." She took another sip of her own drink, and he watched her with his face expressionless. "I found a Comet 220 in your closet; guess you forgot about it when you took off."

"So Regulus believes you?" He must have for her to know his room so well. And even though he liked to call him an idiot, his little brother was smart and wouldn't let a stranger live with him. She nodded, her hair bouncing with the motion. His mind was working fast, still a bit hazy from all the alcohol, but sober enough to not believe her entirely until he had more proof. "I live close by," he said and got up. He left some muggle money on the counter and moved towards the door.

His mind was still reeling as they walked in the chilly spring weather. Neither of them said anything in the ten minutes it took to get to the cabin he shared with his friends. He called out when he opened the door, but no one seemed to be home. Remus must have been off again on one of his 'special missions', as Dumbledore liked to call them. James most likely was off with Lily, doing Merlin knows what, and Peter late at work, as he so often was nowadays.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he mumbled as he kicked a can out of the way and pointed his wand at the fireplace, making the mess more visible, but he was cold, and he didn't care. He threw his jacket and himself on the couch, and watched her carefully take books off the armchair to sit down. She rigidly held on to them until she found some clean space on the coffee table.

They sat like that for a while. Her awkwardly looking around the place, scrutinising every little thing closely, even the rubbish, and him watching her do it.

"I won't explode or change my story, no matter how long you stare at me with that face." She crossed her arms and imitated what he imagined his face must have looked like.

"Just don't know what to make of you yet," he said. "I also was hoping that my friend would show up, but I guess he's not coming tonight, so I have to do the spell myself."

She sat up straighter in her seat, her hand reaching for her wand, he presumed. "What spell?"

"I'm not just gonna take you by your word." He cleaned the table off by throwing everything on the floor, even Remus' books that she had so carefully put down. He picked the can from earlier back up and transfigured it into a silver needle. "Here, prick yourself."

She eyed the needle cautiously but took it out of his hands. Before she pricked her finger, he heard her murmur a disinfecting spell. He did the same and dropped his blood on the table next to hers.

"_Ostende nexum._" The droplets flashed in a bright red colour before slowly connecting together.

"Well, fuck me." His hand reached for the air, and he summoned himself a bottle of firewhiskey.

She was still watching the blood on the table. "So, what does this mean exactly?"

"That you were telling the truth. At least about being related to me." He took a swig straight from the bottle. It would have been too much trouble to find a clean cup in this mess, anyway. "Doesn't really tell me if you're my sister, but I'm inclined to believe you."

She curled up on the armchair with a smug look on her face. "You can ask me anything you want."

"Birds seem to hear this a lot from me, but what's your name again?"

She shook her head at his words but accepted his bottle of firewhiskey.

"Hermione Granger. Though I think Regulus mentioned legitimising my status, it might be Hermione Black already."

"You should keep Granger." His hand went out for another bottle since she didn't seem willing to share with him. "No sane person wants to walk around with Black as a name. Especially not if you really are half-blood." She huffed a laugh, but her eyes seemed far away, watching the small fire. "How did that happen, anyway?"

"I don't exactly know how they met." The fire lit up her face, and her eyes turned a warm brown that no one in his family had. "But as far as I know, my mother had a friend who was a witch, and they went to Diagon Alley together, where she met him. I guess he assumed she was at least a muggle-born - enough witch for a quick tryst. And, well, my mother was young and stupid. You don't really ask those kinds of questions to your parents." She took another gulp, a sullen look on her face. "She fell pregnant and had her friend send him an owl. He didn't force her to abort me, just made her take an unbreakable vow so she could never talk to me about it." It sounded to him like she had recited the story over and over before.

"How d'you know who your father is then?" Firewhiskey always kicked in faster than muggle alcohol, and he felt his mind go fuzzy, his tongue heavy.

"I only found out a month ago. When he died, the vow died with him." She swallowed again, but unlike his, her voice still sounded bright and even.

His head fell back on the soft couch, but it was an old, unevenly filled couch, and he hit the hard wood part instead. He groaned, both from the pain and the memory of his father's funeral. It had been a sad day, not for him in particular, but weatherwise; he, after all these years, still didn't exactly know how to feel about his father. Hate was the closest word to describe it, but also so very wrong.

"I never saw you at Hogwarts."

"I never went. I had a private tutor to teach me about magic and the wizarding world."

Her words sounded believable, and he was sure his father had slept with other women if only to get away from the horror of a wife in his own home. However, he still wasn't sure what to believe. He felt like his life had been turned upside down in a matter of an hour by the sudden appearance of a sister, who, unlike the rest of his family, appeared to be sane.

Also, he was drunk. That never seemed to help his rationale.

"What made you seek me out? I'm not much of a treat to have as a brother as dear Reggie might have told you already."

She had been watching him stretch his tired limbs, but when he asked the question her face went back to the far away, sullen look from before.

"I have no family left," she said, staring at a spot above his left shoulder. Her eyes filled with unshed tears. "I lost my mother recently, and I had nowhere else to go."

He didn't know what to say to that, so he just held his bottle of firewhiskey in her direction, and she took it with a small thanks. They were quiet for a while just watching the fire, and sometimes each other, tiredly.

"What were you doing in that pub, anyway?" she finally broke the silence, and he opened his heavy lids to look at her.

"Celebrating," he managed to gruff out.

"Celebrating what?"

Instead of answering, he threw the Daily Prophet in her lap with such sharp precision that one wouldn't be able to tell he was drunk and about to fall asleep.

Her face fell when she read the headline of the paper.

"Don't bother feeling any sympathy towards her," he chuckled darkly, and his crossed arms heaved up and down where they were resting on his chest. "To the bitch dying." He raised his arm in a mock toast and saluted her. "You better hope she dies too, or it will be your name on the grave when she finds out about you."

She didn't answer him back, but she also didn't deny his words and that was enough for him. His eyes grew heavier and heavier as he watched her face deep in thought and worrying her lips.

* * *

_24 April 1979_

"I'm off for two weeks, and this is what happens to the place?" Something heavy landed on his stomach, and he forced his eyes open to yell at the intruder.

"Fuck off." It was more of a grumble than a yell, but it managed to get his point across. Sirius weakly threw the pillow back in the direction of where he had heard Moony's voice from but heard glass shattering instead of the cry of pain he had hoped for.

"Oh, yeah. Just wreck this place even more, why don't you." He felt a shadow fall over his eyes, and Moony's voice close by him. "It's not like you don't already smell like a liquor store, let's go and douse all the furniture in some more alcohol."

He forced his eyes back open and met Remus' with the same blank expression he afforded him with.

"You don't smell any better."

"I spent the last two weeks in the forest, surrounded by people who didn't believe in soap. What's your excuse?" He went back to the small kitchen area and put the kettle on the stove.

"Same as yours," Sirius mumbled so small that no one should have been able to hear it, but Remus had always been an exception in most points of his life. Remus sent him a morose look and shook his head at his words but didn't reply with any of his usual quips.

"There's a note for you on the table." The kettle whistled, and Sirius buried his head under his arms, trying to evade even more of a headache without success. "You invited a girl over or something?"

"Or something is right." He didn't feel like elaborating more at that point, so he reached for the note. Her handwriting was neat, but not in the fancy kind of way that he had been forced to learn.

"What did she write?" Remus pushed him a cup of steaming tea in his hands, and he graciously took a sip, though he did wish for some hangover potion on the side. Or a shot of firewhiskey.

"Don't be jealous, Moony. She didn't mean anything, I swear." His voice was joking, but he stared blankly at his eyes from over the cup he was holding in his hands.

A huffed "You wish," was all he got back.

They drank their tea in uncomfortable silence, watching each other every once in a while. Sirius reached for the almost empty bottle of firewhiskey on the table and stirred it in with the last sips of his tea, which earned him another eye roll.

"I found out I have a sister," he said, still stirring his tea. "Right after I heard the good news of my dear old mother being in a coma." He only heard Remus' reaction as he coughed up the liquid that had gone down the wrong pipe. He finally looked up at his red face. "And how was your stay with the wolves?"

It took him a while to get his breathing back to normal, and Sirius watched his chest rise and fall until it was coming at regular intervals again. Finally, when his face was back to the usual sickish pale, he asked, "How are you holding up?" and Sirius only nodded his head to the free space next to him, and Moony understood at once and came over to sit his lanky body next to him. His long arm was around the same part of the backrest that he had hit his head on a couple of hours ago.

Sirius leaned his head against his shoulder but didn't feel like answering his question. Instead, he breathed in Moony's smell. He really did smell terrible; like the rotten damp leaves of the forest with a hint of wet fur. But there was also the scent of just him that he always carried around, no matter how much time away they had spent apart. A smell that always reminded him of home.

"I missed you," he murmured into his shirt. Remus' arm came as a comforting weight around his shoulder, and they sat there, quiet, only their breathing interrupting the environment around them.

"I need to leave again soon." The vibrations of the chest his head was leaning on stirred Sirius back out of his little slumber. It took him a moment to register the words in his tired, hungover mind.

He didn't answer him back. Instead, he went to the small bathroom in the house that they all had to share and washed his face before he donned his leather jacket from the previous day for the jean jacket hanging neatly on the wall hanger. It was a little long on him, but he thought it looked better with rolled sleeves, anyway.

Moony was still sitting on the sofa, his long legs stretched in front of him, arms crossed, and his eyes watching him from under his sandy brown fringe. "That's my jacket."

"You won't need it with the wolves." His voice sounded harsher than he intended, so he tried to smirk at him, but he knew that his heart wasn't in it and it resembled more a sneer than his usual mask of indifference. "Besides, it looks better on me anyway."

"Where are you going?" His body was almost entirely in the fireplace already.

"James."

"Don't," he said and shook his head for emphasis. "It's their anniversary today."

"I think finding out I have a sister is a little more important than that." Besides, he felt like he shouldn't be the only one feeling miserable. He took the last of the Floo powder in his palm and threw it in the small fire that was still going, and shouted his destination.

* * *

Even before they had taken him in, the Potter Estate had always felt more like a home to Sirius than his own supposed one had. The house was bigger than even Grimmauld Place, but the walls radiated a warmth and a promise of safety that the dark facades of his childhood prison could never imitate. Too much history and dark magic had seeped into the walls for that. As a child, he used to think that his room was his own personal cell in Azkaban; it definitely had felt the way he imagined it to be like.

He made his way through the halls, greeting one portrait and another until he made it to the sitting room where soft music was coming from. He debated if he should make himself known lest he see something he didn't want to witness (again) and decided for a quick, harsh knock that wouldn't have allowed them enough time to get dressed before he entered the room.

Red hair was splayed on the couch, but he couldn't see any more of Lily than that. His best friend's body was covering up most of hers, and all that could be heard were their sloppy wet kisses. He stood over them, waiting for them to realise he was there but their snog session had them too preoccupied. He cleared his throat.

"Oi!" Prongs head shot up and almost hit Sirius' who was smirking at him. "Bugger off. I thought you were my dad." He shoved his shoulder and righted his glasses. His black hair was still an unruly mess, but no adjusting could make that better.

Sirius saw Lily roll her eyes as she got up and fixed herself to a more presentable state. Her face was still flush when she asked him - a little cross - what he was doing there.

"What were _you_ guys doing? You should be glad I stopped you when I did." He plopped down next to Lily with his hands still in his pockets. "I don't think I'm ready to be an uncle yet."

Lily hit him at his shoulder not so playfully. "Don't you dare give him any ideas," she said with a look towards James.

"Oh, I'm just glad you finally agreed to move in with me." James handed him a glass of elf-made wine - not his favourite, he preferred the burning of firewhiskey - and he graciously accepted. "The rest will come with time."

Lily took a swig of her wine instead of answering him, but James didn't seem to notice.

"So you're gonna move in with us, or get your own place?"

"Don't be absurd," Lily scoffed. "I would never move in that crummy house with you guys. It's like a pigsty." Sirius didn't argue. She was right anyway, so there was no point in trying to deny it. "No, James bought a cottage beforehand, so I wouldn't be able to say no."

"Oh, don't be like that." He pinched her nose, and she swatted him away, playfully. "You said we could move in together once your first year of healer training is done."

She raised her eyebrows in question. "And four months left is done for you?"

Sirius still sat between them, and while he usually just let their talking continue, he felt a bit impatient. "Is no one going to ask why I'm here?"

"I assumed you were just on your usual mission to annoy me to death." James laughed from his other side.

"Not today, I'm afraid." Lily sat up straighter, a concerned look on her face. The lack of their usual teasing must have made her realise that he came for a different reason. He let his head fall in his hands and tried to wipe away the fatigue he had felt since waking up. "A girl came up to me in the bar yesterday and claimed she was my sister."

"And you didn't believe her, right?" Lily's green eyes looked him straight into his own, unmoving. He shrugged. He still had some doubts in believing her story entirely, but the spell had confirmed a relation. "Sirius, this is way too sketchy. She comes to you out of nowhere after your father died? And your mother fell in a coma?"

"She said she only found out last month." He felt like shrugging again, just because he didn't know what else to do with himself. "I don't know. I tested our blood, and we are definitely related."

James chimed in with a similarly concerned face as his girlfriends. "Maybe she is just a distant cousin. I bet if we tried that spell on our blood, it would be positive too."

"James is right." She got up to refill his glass with more disgustingly sweet wine, but he didn't complain. "You need a more reliable test. I think I came across a potion in one of my training books once." She nibbled on her blue coloured nails and muttered, "Some Veritaserum wouldn't hurt either."

Sirius laughed out in surprise. "You want to invite her over and give her some Veritaserum along with her drink?"

"You're right, that's ridiculous. We don't have enough time to brew that."

"Because that's the problem." He tried to sound sarcastic - which usually came very easy to him - but he was still too surprised by her words. He supposed the rise of the war (and their active inclusion in it) had made everyone more cautious of strangers. Still.

"We could invite Alice over too. She has easy access to the interrogation rooms in the Ministry." He looked between his friends with his mouth slightly open. James continued as if he wasn't even there. "And having an Auror there would be safer, anyway. If she tried anything funny."

"She already knows where we live, and I fell asleep while she was in the room and she hasn't tried anything funny." He was ignored again.

"Send her an owl and invite her over to your place on Friday. I should have everything ready by then." Sirius agreed when he saw the resolve in the redheads face. There was no point in arguing with Lily Evans when she had her mind set on something, and he wasn't feeling up on trying the impossible.

* * *

_26 April 1979_

Hermione stood in front of the wall-length mirror of her bathroom. She was glad it wasn't one of those mirrors Lavender had insisted on having in their dorm that insulted everything about you until you felt like smashing it to pieces, but the reflection of her shaking frame still made her want to burst out into tears.

She had gotten the invitation two days ago and hadn't stopped thinking about it. She had even taken some money (her own, not the pouch of galleons that Regulus had left for her) and went into muggle London to buy herself some more appropriate clothing. They were still second hand, but definitely better quality than her war-torn ones had been.

It was almost time for her to leave, she realised. She grabbed the vial with the blue liquid that she had promised herself not to take, but her knees wouldn't stop shaking, and Hermione still had to apparate, so she swallowed it down in one gulp. It didn't set into effect as quickly as it used to, but Hermione finally felt an air of peacefulness settle over her.

She opened her eyes and looked back at her reflection with a smile. It appeared forced, but only if you were to look hard enough to try and see the way her jaw clenched. She imagined a lot of people would be looking at her actions closely today but simply decided to forget about that. It didn't work too well.

She arrived in an alley behind the bar that she had tracked Sirius to at quarter to eight. The air was a little crisp, but she had a new jacket to keep her warm, so she decided to walk the same way that Sirius had taken a couple of days ago. It didn't take as long as she remembered, maybe because she was sober today. She stood awkwardly in front of the door, debating if five minutes early was too early and if she should just come back in another ten minutes when the door opened.

"Are you just going to stand here all night?" Her breath hitched when she took him in. She had mistaken his voice for Sirius' at first because he was slurring it the same way he did when tipsy, though his was a little deeper, possibly still on guard of the stranger. Her eyes met his only for a second before she looked away again - they were not the emerald green she had hoped to see. She cursed herself. Of course, they wouldn't be. "I'm James Potter. Come in then." He didn't reach out his hand to shake hers, and she was grateful for it. Her hands were clammy and shaking.

She followed his lead through the cramped corridor she hadn't remembered from her last visit. He picked up a bottle of Butterbeer for her, and when they entered the small sitting room area, everyone turned their heads to watch her stand awkwardly in the doorway.

Hermione had half a mind to just turn back around, and forget about the Order or the people watching her. She didn't need them to destroy Voldemort and the Death Eaters, did she? Regulus was enough, and she already had him on her side.

"Hi," she finally breathed out. "I'm Hermione."

No one else seemed to move or want to introduce themselves at first until her old professor stood up from his seat next to Sirius, and shook her trembling hand. His smile wasn't as inviting as it used to be for her, but she appreciated the first step.

"Remus Lupin," he introduced himself.

"I'm Peter," another voice came from behind him. She hesitated only a second before shaking his hand too. It helped that he didn't look anything like she remembered the rat from her third year. "Pettigrew." His face was friendly (possible the kindest one she had met this evening), and he took the lead to introduce her to the other people in the room.

There was Sirius who she had already met of course, and he only regarded her with a jerk of his head before turning back to the bottle at his hand. Remus had sat back down next to him and was watching her introduce herself to everyone, though he did it with a smile on his face, unlike Lily Evans. Hermione had expected to feel the most anxiety when meeting Harry's father, but that one had been quick and painless compared to her. Her piercing green eyes seemed to want to read her mind, and Hermione checked her Occlumency walls just to be on the safe side. While she hadn't been able to look James in the face for the lack of green, she wasn't capable of standing more than two seconds of looking into Lily's. The last time she had seen them was when they were slowly being drained from their life.

Lily took over for Peter. "This is my friend Alice and her husband, Frank Longbottom. They're Aurors."

She felt Lily's heated gaze on her and knew the other girl was waiting for any kind of indication that she was scared. Hermione didn't like it, but she understood the hostility she was facing. She was a stranger to them; a stranger claiming to be her friend's bastard sister.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione," Alice said, and she was the first one to which made her earn a look from the redhead that read: No, it wasn't nice to meet her.

"Here, have a Butterbeer." Lily pushed an open bottle into her hands and sat down next to her boyfriend. "We were just talking about our time in Hogwarts, but you've never been, have you?"

She took a swig of her bottle under the group's watchful eyes. If they were going to continue like this, she'd need more than one bottle, that was for sure.

"No, I had a private tutor."

She saw Lily raise her eyebrow towards Alice, who shrugged slightly.

"When did you find out about who your father was?"

"I believe Sirius already told you everything I told him." She swallowed another mouthful of the too-sweet drink. She'd definitely brush her teeth a minute longer tonight. "If you expect me to change my story now, you're going to be disappointed."

Hermione felt tipsy. Her head was already spinning, and she hadn't even finished off half her bottle of Butterbeer yet. She examined the liquid through the darkened glass but couldn't see anything wrong with it.

"When he died about a month ago the vow he had my mother take broke, and she was able to tell me who he was." Her tongue was heavy, and she felt like she was chewing on nothing.

Had they spiked her beer? Were they trying to get her drunk in hopes of loosening her tongue?

She watched Lily whisper something in Frank's ear, and he nodded. Hermione's head turned to the couple sitting on the floor, hands interwoven. Why were they here again? Thinking felt like wading through thick mud that clung to your shoes, hoping to drag you down and let go. That's what she wanted to do; let go.

"Did someone send you?"

What?

Her mind cleared at once, her crumbling walls building themselves back together, as she stared at the bottle still in her hand.

"I need to use the bathroom, please." Lily smiled at her with her false friendliness, and her eyes no longer remembered her of Harry.

Once inside the tiny bathroom, Hermione put a _muffliato_ around the room and let herself scream. She had been foolish to think that they would trust her with one poorly made-up story; that they would welcome a stranger to their group without wanting to make sure she told the truth.

Still, somehow she felt violated. They had tried taking away the brightness of her mind, and that was the only thing she had always had with her, and the only thing that was left of her.

She frowned at her reflection. Tears were hanging down her lashes, lashes on eyes that were not entirely hers anymore. She felt like breaking something, felt like screaming some more, but instead just pushed down hard on her still raw mudblood scar; to remind her who she was, why she was here.

It helped calm her down a little, but she took another vial of Calming Draught to make sure she wouldn't freak out in front of them.

A deep breath and a couple of glamour charms later, she came back out of the bathroom, her head held higher than seen polite.

"You didn't have to spike my beer with Veritaserum to make me tell the truth." Her voice was calm and even, the total opposite of how she was feeling inside despite the drug.

Alice's constant warm smile fell from her face, and Hermione imagined the other's having a similar look, though she didn't feel like she had enough nerve to check.

Everyone started talking at once, over and with each other, but only Lily was speaking directly to her, her face serious. "How did you know?"

Hermione didn't acknowledge her. "You can do your other tests, I know you must have planned something. But please never take away my free will again. I'm not lying." She was, and she knew she was a hypocrite, but she didn't care.

Lily instructed James to get the potion from his bedroom while she kept watching Hermione. It didn't take long for him to bring it out, and they gathered around the coffee table.

"Sirius already added his blood, so we only need yours to check if you're telling the truth."

Hermione nodded and took her dagger out. She sensed multiple people reaching for their wands as she did so, but didn't care. She sliced her hand open at the same spot she had only a couple of days ago for another potion. It hadn't healed yet, and now there was surely going to be a scar left; she didn't care about that either. It didn't even sting as she watched the blood drip into the cauldron.

"I don't think someone would go this far to lie," she heard Peter whisper. Someone shushed him, but she looked up and gave him a smile. Someone would.

The potion swirled on its own; her bright red blood mixing in with the greenish-brown already in the cauldron. They all watched with bated breaths, even Hermione. She trusted Draco's skill and her research, but this was her first real test.

The mixture stopped, and nothing happened.

Hermione looked up, confused. She didn't seem to be the only one; everyone was looking at Lily question marks practically plastered on their faces. Her red hair had fallen before her face like a curtain, and she was looking on the floor.

"I'm sorry." It was so low Hermione almost didn't hear it. "I'm sorry. You are telling the truth."

Hermione let out an inaudible sigh of relief.

"It's alright," she said, and everyone would be able to tell it was a lie. But she knew she would get over it. "I'd have done the same thing." Maybe even worse.

She hadn't noticed before, but Sirius apparently had left the sitting room. He hadn't said a word to her all evening, but she supposed that was fine. It was a lot to process in the short amount of time they had known each other, and she was pretty sure he hadn't been sober once since.

She picked her jacket up from her place and excused herself, "I think this was enough excitement for one night." Hermione startled when Alice hugged her briefly as a goodbye. She let it happen though she felt she'd rather have kissed a flobberworm instead.

She didn't bother with anyone else and went straight to the door to apparate away from the cottage as fast as her magic would take her.

* * *

**I had Latin for two years and only remember 'Hic est monumentum.' which was literally the first sentence in our book. So if my made-up spells sound stupid to you, please blame Google Translate and not me, because I am sensitive, Aubrey.**  
**Also, I know most fanfic authors/readers have this specific picture of the Marauders + Lily in their heads that seem to be taken as gospel in fanon, but my children may be a little deviant from that. I hope I don't lose too much of their fun side, but I do not see them as some people write them (e.g. pranksters like the Weasley twins). Hopefully, their caution (and sometimes moping) don't turn you off too much from this story, but they are in the middle of a war, and as Moody would say: Constant Vigilance!**  
**love, kaya**


	7. advances

**I'm sorry I haven't updated in a month. I've felt out of it and scatterbrained lately, so I couldn't sit down longer than ten minutes to concentrate on anything (also have been doubting everything I have planned for this story recently lmao). Instead of once a week I'm aiming for at least one chapter a month from now on, I hope you understand. Thank you guys so much for reading and always being so lovely in the comments, I appreciate it!**

* * *

28 April 1979

It was strange to live alone in a big house, especially Grimmauld Place. She had been on the run first with Harry and Ron, and then Draco and Theo. She and Ron had spent hours exploring the house while they were on the hunt, and everywhere she looked, she expected to see his bright red hair against the dark walls of the house, giving her one of his cheeky grins and maybe even a wink. Whenever she walked down to the kitchen, she looked forward to seeing her best friends messy black hair and his tired face with a small but genuine smile reserved just for them, but that never happened. It was only ever Kreacher, cooking food enough for a small army or cleaning.

Kreacher helped her a bit in her loneliness, but the house-elf wasn't a good replacement compared to her lost friends. Hermione had tried talking to him, but he only really wanted to feed her because according to him "the mistress was too skinny", and even though she didn't feel like eating, she did. It was her responsibility to try and keep him as sane as possible, she thought. If it hadn't been for her, after all, his real mistress would still be there for him to fuss over.

The familiar sound of Kreacher apparating sounded in her room, and she only jumped a little, which was a big improvement in her eyes. "Kreacher made treacle tart, Mistress."

Hermione glanced at her watch and sighed. It was almost midnight, she had already brushed her teeth and was deep into her notes. She really didn't feel like eating anything but declining him wasn't an option. She had tried that already two days ago, and he had almost started banging his head between the door and the frame before she promised him to eat everything on the table.

"I'm coming," she said, and a yawn escaped her mouth.

She needed to help him find a hobby. Maybe reading would reduce his force-feeding of her to two meals a day instead of the five she had endured the past week since Regulus' departure. Maybe they could even discuss the books after; it would be fascinating to hear a house-elfs view on The Anthropology of Being, Beast and Spirit in the Wizarding World according to Bartholomew Biggins (though maybe she should start with easier material first).

Her legs ached with every step she took down the stairs, following Kreacher. She had started working out the day before, thinking that she could at least start building up some muscle since Kreacher wasn't being swayed on the idea of fattening her up. Draco would have been proud; he had always insisted on her joining him and Theo on their jogs, but she'd had numerous excuses on hand that one day he just gave up. Now she regretted her past self.

"Kreacher, can you read?"

The elf's head bobbed up and down with every step he took. "Kreacher knows everything he needs to know, Mistress, Kreacher doesn't need to read."

"Maybe I could teach you." She stopped on the second-floor hallway to pull up her too big socks, and the portrait of a stern woman (the telltale face of any Black family member portrait in the house) she was leaning against glared at her. Hermione had half a mind to stick out her tongue but decided to ignore her looks as she did with most of the portraits. "Reading can be fun, and you could have something other to do than cooking and cleaning."

Kreacher's big eyes turned to her, appaled. "Cooking and cleaning is fun to Kreacher!"

"Of course it is, I didn't mean to offend you," she tried to soothe him quickly. Having an insulted elf was worse than a hovering one. She started talking again, "I just thought tha-" A flash of silver out of the window caught her eye and the surprise almost made her miss the next step, and tumble down to the next level if it hadn't been for Kreacher's fast reflexes.

"You go on, I'll be down soon." She was still looking out of the window, and the small pop of the elf disapparating snapped her out of her daze.

She couldn't say for sure because they had quite a lot of distance between them, but she thought he was looking straight at her. Hermione had asked Regulus in one of her letters after Sirius had mentioned not being able to go to Grimmauld Place because of the wards, and he had denied his claims. Their father had never extended the wards to reject him, and Walburga had not only tried to burn him off the tapestry but also her mind, so she hadn't bothered. So Hermione was sure he could see her watching him watching her, but his face stayed expressionless.

He was standing under the warm light of the street lantern, and the almost periodic raising of his arm to puff on his cigarette was what had caught her eye. His silvery watch glared at her twice more before she turned around to go down the last set of stairs.

The biting cold air shoved its way through the fabric of her thin cardigan, and she hugged it close to her body. Sirius was watching her stiffly trying to relax against the lantern.

"Smoking kills." The cold metal of the lamppost sent a shiver down her back as she leaned against it; a jacket would have been smart.

"Hypothermia can kill you too." He took another deep drag before wordlessly offering it to her. She hated smoking and people who smoked next to others who were clearly uncomfortable with it, but this was something akin to a peace offering, so she accepted it.

She held the fag between her thumb and her index finger, which felt odd, but the stub was getting too small, and she didn't feel like burning her hand. She had only ever smoked once before on the insistence of the twins who had found a half-empty packet in their father's shed. The memory of that first time smoking didn't compare to now. She took a deep breath in and felt the smoke go down to her lungs, and immediately come back up in the form of a coughing fit. Her eyes were tearing up, and her throat was burning. Sirius chuckled and reached to take the stub back, but she pretended not to notice and stomped it out.

They were quiet for some time, not looking at each other to prevent making this an even more awkward situation. Hermione saw him grab inside his leather jacket to get another smoke out, but he didn't light it after seeing the look on her face. Instead, he stuck it behind his ear, and she loathed to admit that it made him look even more nonchalant. He took a deep breath.

"I wanted to apologise for my friends' behaviour. Mine too. I shouldn't have let them go ahead with that whole... affair."

Hermione snorted to herself but didn't reply with anything else. It definitely had been a 'whole affair.' It had taken some time for her to calm down - especially after her slight freak out where she ended up apparating too close to a muggle bar (thank the Lord for drunks and their ability to excuse anything weird happening) - but she had had yesterday to think about what had happened. She came to the conclusion that she could have handled it better herself and should have been more alert from the start - of course, it would have been better if his friends hadn't drugged her at all.

"Lily is... it's hard for her to trust new people, especially ones with ties to dark wizards." Sirius turned his hard gaze at her, probably waiting for a reaction but Hermione only nodded for him to continue. "There was an incident after graduation. Mulciber, a friend of someone she used to be close to, threatened her and not even a day later her father was in an accident. She's a muggle-born, you know. The DMLE wouldn't listen to her, but she believes it was him. I'm not trying to excuse her behaviour, but maybe you'll understand." He chuckled darkly. "Also trying to disagree with Lily Evans is suicide."

Hermione nodded, even though Sirius wasn't facing her anymore. She sat down on the damp wooden bench behind them and tucked her cold hands under her.

"I'm sorry too. For not at least arguing against drugging you. I knew it w-"

"You don't have to keep apologising," she interrupted him. "We are in the middle of a war, and the only friend I have is a Death Eater."

His head snapped back at her with a frown of confusion.

"So you do know that he is a Death Eater."

Hermione fidgeted uncomfortably under his accusing look. She stood back up to be at eye level with him, though even with her added inches she was still a bit shorter than him.

"It's not as easy as you think."

She knew she shouldn't have said anything. Sirius was still watching her, waiting for further explanation on his brother. She was glad to see that he still cared about his brother - hadn't given up on him yet, like the Sirius she had briefly known in the future - but she still had to talk to Regulus about their possible involvement in the Order or at least telling Sirius and his friends about Horcruxes.

He exhaled exasperatedly and rubbed his face.

"Does it have anything to do with that letter I got two weeks ago?"

"Letter?" Hermione didn't know anything about that.

"Yeah, it was pretty ominous. I didn't know what to think about it. The only thing it said was 'You were right' in his overly fancy writing."

She wanted to ask him why he hadn't reached out then if it had worried him so much and he knew it came from his brother, and she had already started her sentence but decided against it. Accusing him now would be like taking three steps back again, and she was too close to being on at least okay terms with him. Sirius didn't seem to have heard her, looking deep in thought and shaking his head slightly.

"I don't know about any letter, but you don't have to worry, he is fine."

He scoffed and reached to the cigarette tucked behind his ear.

"I'm not worried about him." Hermione didn't believe him. "He's got himself into that mess, he can damn well get himself out of there." He lit up his cigarette with his wand half-hidden in his jacket sleeve. "You live alone in that house?" His head jerked back to number 12, and the look on his face clearly told how he felt about it.

"Kreacher's keeping me company."

"That's worse than being alone in there," he sneered. "We're meeting up at my place next week. You can come if you want to."

"And I won't be drugged this time?"

Hermione was relieved to hear him laugh and not take ill to her lousy attempt to make light of the situation.

"Not unless you want to." He took another drag of his cigarette before killing it under his boot. "See you then?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "See you then." They smiled at each other, and though it was still a little tense, Hermione was hopeful to see how their next meeting was going to pan out. She even ate two slices of treacle tart back in the kitchen, much to Kreacher's joy.

* * *

2 May 1979

The Great Hall's noises were pushed to the back, almost nonexistent, as his eyes closed on their own merit. A loud bang from a goblet hitting the table next to him made his eyes flutter open and catch the judging eyes of a blonde prefect across from him. Regulus sat up straighter in his seat and tried not to fall asleep again, shoving his potatoes around on the plate.

Ever since getting back to Hogwarts, he had spent his little free time looking for that damned diadem - and between his exhausting quidditch drills almost every day in preparation for the last match between Ravenclaw and Slytherin and his tedious study sessions for his upcoming N.E.W.T. exams, well, his plate was full, overflowing even.

He got up, deciding that looking for the Horcrux was more important than failing to consume any more food. The blonde girl was still watching him, and he tried sending her an aloof smile, the best he could manage in his current state. She raised her eyebrows at him, scoffing, but turned away as if she hadn't been observing his every move, and that was fine with him.

He was about to go left, to take the stairs leading up to the Room of Requirement (that had taken him a long time to find, even with Hermione's detailed instructions) when a voice stopped him.

"Regulus!" Barty sounded out of breath, and when Regulus looked back to him, his curly hair was messed up as if he had been running. "Haven't seen you in a while, how are you?"

Regulus didn't have the patience for small talk, so all he said was, "Well, you know," not knowing himself what it exactly meant. Barty nodded, though, so he must have understood.

"Yeah, I get it." He bit his chapped lips and waited for a group of fourth-year students to pass. "I wanted to ask if you had any plans right now?"

"Oh, I am sorry, I..." can't, I'm searching for a piece of the Dark Lord's soul - not a good excuse, he thought, especially not with Barty. "I have quidditch practice today."

"Again?" he asked, confused.

"Again?" Regulus repeated, also confused.

Barty's mouth turned into a small o, and his cheeks flushed a reddish hue.

"Oh, you know, I just, um," he rubbed the back of his neck and looked everywhere but at the boy he was actually talking to. "I just saw you at the pitch before classes this morning." The tips of his ears had also turned red, and Regulus thought he looked rather charming.

"We're playing against your house next week, and with a chaser like yourself, we need to be prepared."

Barty rolled his eyes but grinned a crooked grin.

"You're still gonna lose, Black."

"We'll see about that, Crouch."

"Loser buys a round at Rosmerta's?" He seemed to have forgotten all about his embarrassment just seconds ago and grinned up at Regulus boldly.

"I do so hate to take money from the less fortunate." Barty scoffed and shoved his shoulder playfully. "But you got a deal."

They shook hands on it, and Regulus had half a mind to do something stupid like pulling Barty into a kiss in the middle of the hallway, digging his hands in those loose curls of his, not caring who saw, but quickly shook his hormone-induced thoughts off.

He turned around from the staircase he was going to take and made his way towards the quidditch pitch, desperately praying that Barty wasn't keen on watching him train a second time that day; he would be disappointed if he did. It made Regulus smile like a fool, though, the thought that Barty had watched him that morning, and possibly on other days too. He almost felt normal, like most of the students were that went to Hogwarts, like Sirius had been most of the time - like he never had the chance to be.

It took Regulus an added half an hour to get to the Room of Hidden Things. Even before entering and seeing the messy rows of forgotten, lost or hidden items of students past, he allowed himself to let out one big groan of despair before getting to work on the third row. He had made quite a lot of progress considering that he was alone and had had some obstacles to deal with, especially the first couple of days.

Most of the items there were harmless - old schoolbooks, uniforms or broken toys - but some radiated such undeniable dark magic that Regulus wouldn't have been surprised to stumble upon another Horcrux on pure accident. Especially that one snapping necklace that had put him out of searching for two days (and quidditch practice, much to Talkalot's dismay) after biting his hand, and causing it to swell up to double its size.

Hermione hadn't been able to tell him much, only that it was 'somewhere in the back, possibly close by a bust of an ugly warlock' but that had been in her time, and no matter how long he had searched for the first two days, he hadn't been able to locate the bust. So he decided to go at it as he did with his arithmancy work: deliberately and organised.

The way it was going, he'd be here until his dying days. Much like arithmancy, come to think of it.

He stopped searching when he wasn't able to ignore the pounding of his head or the burning of his eyes anymore. With a look at his watch, he realised it was well past curfew. His plans of working on his herbology essay went out the window if he still wanted to have a couple of hours of shut-eye. And for what? He had found everything from a lewd story about Dumbledore and Dippet (that he had spent too long reading) to a dead flobberworm with a bow on its head (he assumed it was the head). The closest he had gotten to the diadem was the crude drawing of what he believed to be Rowena Ravenclaw and Helga Hufflepuff doing god knows what to each other.

He kicked the big pile of colourful and moth-eaten scarves to his right, hoping to lessen his frustration but ending up clutching his foot in pain instead.

"Fuck," he hissed, glad that no one was around to actually hear him swear.

He jumped around on one leg for a bit before being brave enough to put weight on his hurt foot again. It stung a bit but seemed to be all right otherwise.

He glared at the pile of offending cloths, considering burning it when the sight of white stone made him halt in his tracks. He removed the scarves frantically and with a pounding heart.

The ugly warlock (though calling him ugly might have been a bit harsh) was lying there in all his balded glory.

Regulus sat back against a huge cupboard, laughing.

With any luck, the diadem would be close by, and he could finally get a good nights sleep again. Oh, how he looked forward to that day.

He got up from the ground with new vigour to his step and marked the cupboard with an X, so he would be able to find it easily the next day. With this small success in his search, he didn't feel bad about going to bed now.

It seemed luck was on his side for the remainder of the way down to the Slytherin dungeon as he encountered no one, not even Filch's wicked cat. He tried to be quiet entering his dorm but was missed by a pillow upon putting just one foot in.

"Where the fuck have you been?" A flying towel almost hit him in the face if it hadn't been for his seasoned seeker skills. "This owl has been crapping all over my transfiguration papers, McGonagall is going to kill me." Indeed an owl was sitting on top of the shared desk, glaring at anyone and anything.

"How did it even get down here?" a tired voice from the bed next to Wilkes asked.

"Fuck if I know."

"Can owls swim?"

"Bloody hell, Seb, don't be ridiculous," Macmillan chimed in, but Regulus ignored their discussions about swimming owls to get the letter from the grumpy bird. He rummaged through his bag to get to the jar of lacewing flies he had found earlier on his search and dumped a handful of them on the desk. The owl glared at the flies with what Regulus could best describe as a sceptical look, before starting to peck at them. He heard a shout from Wilkes about his homework and felt gracious enough to save them before tying the letter off.

The big red Lestrange seal made him swallow. He knew what was coming.

What is this about a sister I hear?

No salutation, no farewell.

Well, shite.

* * *

**I originally intended for this chapter to be longer, but I think I need to refine the second part more because there is one character in it I find particularly hard to write in the correct tone. That is why this chapter is a little short and might be boring (and also the reason for the stupid chapter name), but I hope you still enjoyed it!**  
**love, kaya**


	8. snake eat snake

_ 2 May 1979_

Fiendfyre was one of the hardest spells Hermione had tried to learn so far. Harder than the three Unforgivable Curses; harder than the Patronus charm which had taken her weeks to learn even with the help of a competent teacher. The books she had access to didn't specify one how to wield the cursed fire. It must have been illegal to sell books that taught everyday witches and wizards dark spells that could destroy a small village without proper care. She was not like most folk of the wizarding world, though. Hermione Jean Granger had fought against dark wizards since she was eleven, fought in a bloody war generations before her had started, all because of her parentage. She was not the brightest witch of all ages, by no means, but she was better than most of the pureblood lot she had been surrounded with all of her life of being one, that she was sure of.

So, of course, she had to try it.

She had prepared everything meticulously, every rune perfectly carved in the dirt, glowing a faint blue from her magic. Hermione was sure that nothing too terrible could happen, not with all the precautions she had put in place, but Kreacher was still insistent on 'keeping his mistress safe', as he had put it. Hermione tried to convince him to bake more bread or clean the house for the umpteenth time that week in case she did lose control and get him hurt somehow, but his insistence won her over. She had considered ordering him away in her 'mistress voice', but decided against it. If it was free will she wanted for the house-elves, she had to respect his wishes. The thought of him standing by her side did comfort her a little. She was strapped for friends, after all, and if Kreacher were all she was going to get, she would welcome him with open arms.

The sun had just begun setting over the roofs of the houses, casting a soft romantic glow on the ugly bricks. It was not a setting she thought fit particularly well with the situation, but maybe it was a good sign.

Hermione rechecked her runes. She knew they were perfect, but she didn't know if they would work. The only accounts she had been able to find were of people who already knew how to perfectly wield the fire without the added need for protective wards, or people who had watched others lose control and burn everything to ashes. She wasn't too keen on burning down the whole neighbourhood.

Kreacher watched her as she crouched on the grass, mumbling the well-known incantation to herself over and over again. It surely wasn't a good omen to be letting the literally translated hell fires loose, but Hermione never was one to believe in those.

"Stand back."

The elf quickly scurried a couple of feet away from the rune circle, his eyes big and scared. Hermione wanted to offer him to leave again but knew it was to no avail, so gave him an encouraging nod. At least she hoped he took it as one.

As soon as the words had left her lips, her vision started to blur. She tried blinking the fog away, but it stayed persistent. She could see the small fire clear enough, though. It could have fit in one of the jars she liked to carry around in wintertime, so low was it. She spun her wand in the air like a conductor, and the fire followed her movements, up and down. Kreacher let out a gasp as a tiny figure – a dragon, maybe? Hermione couldn't quite make it out – flew up in the air, and then puffed away into the evening sky.

Her warded circle was still glowing blue, and Hermione felt confident in its ability to contain a bigger flame, so she put more energy into it. The fire grew in size, making dragons and serpents dance in the dark that was slowly falling over them.

Then the burning started.

Hermione fell to her knees with a cry, taken off guard by the heat spreading from her wand hand and breaking her concentration. None of her books had mentioned that happening.

In the seconds it took her to find her wand and get back on her feet, the fire had somehow managed to start breaking down her wards. Hermione watched helplessly as her runes went out one by one. Kreacher yelled for her to get back, and his croaking voice finally managed to get her to move again.

She tried to take back control of the fire, her arm shaking from the strength it took to keep it steady. She felt beads of sweat running down her nose from the sudden heat that was growing more intense. Hermione ignored everything around her – her throbbing head, burning body, Kreacher's insistent yelling – she wanted this to work, _needed _this to work. The fire, though, seemed like it had a mind of its own. The force in which it fought against her made her knees buckle under her.

The smell of the burning grass lingered in her nose, trying to force back memories of lit up rooms, the stench of burning flesh, the nightmarish screams of someone burning alive. Hermione tried not to let it get to her just yet, but trying to forget the memories and bury them deep down with the help of occlumency where no one could see them didn't exactly work if you were the one with the shovel.

It felt like a losing battle of tug of war. Any time Hermione put in all the energy she could muster, the fiery beasts rose again, pushing against her thin walls of control. She was faintly aware of Kreacher's erratic snapping, but even his house-elf magic couldn't overpower the flames. His attempts seemed to make the fire angrier with every snap of his fingers, waking up larger beasts from deep within the fire.

She was on her knees, panting heavily. Her wand was still half-heartedly up in the air, but she knew she had messed up. She had not only put herself in danger but also Kreacher. Not to mention all the muggles that weren't even aware of the happenings in their – to their knowledge – nonexistent neighbour's backyard.

She watched in silent awe as a serpent's head rose from the flames, higher and higher, becoming brighter and bigger with every passing second. Her arm went up again, feeling too heavy and in slow motion, while the serpent was watching her, trying to figure out when best to strike.

And then it did, and everything was going fast again.

Her hands flew up in front of her face as a reflex even though she knew it was hopeless to even think they would be able to protect her from harm. The heat caressed her face with stinging licks, but before she could open her mouth to let out one last scream, Kreacher snapped his fingers again, his yell echoing between the brick walls of the townhouses.

Hermione's eyes were still shut, her body shaking with unshed tears. The sulfuric smell of burning hair penetrated her nose, but no heat came with it, nor the endless screams of burning alive.

Everything was too quiet all of a sudden; the silence pushed against her eardrums. She opened her eyes slowly, her vision blurry and eyes stinging from the heat. The air around her was surrounded by dark smoke, making it even harder to see and breathe.

"Kreacher."

Her voice came as nothing more than a whisper and the force of the coughing fit that followed made her crouch down on all fours. It felt like an eternity of dry hacking and heaving until she could muster up enough energy to reach for her wand and vanish the smoke. Even though the night had already mostly taken over the day, it was still bright enough for her to have to shut her eyes. It seemed like exhaustion took over her when she did, and all she wanted was to lie down on the grass and sleep in the chilly spring night. The small, raspy breaths of Kreacher snapped her out, though, and she couldn't hide her cry of joy when she was able to feel his weak pulse under her fingers.

Hermione could feel the hot tears streaming down her face again, the taste of salt mixing with her hiccuped apologies to Kreacher. She took the tiny elf up in her arms with the last of her strength and carried him up to her bedroom. She didn't even dare look back at the black spot in the grass, too scared that maybe the fire would decide to come back and devour the whole neighbourhood.

* * *

_ 4 May 1979_

Kreacher had started cooking and cleaning again, seeming perfectly fine after just a good night's sleep in her bed and wouldn't listen to her pleas to rest more. Even her pleas of forgiveness had fallen on deaf ears, and he stopped talking to her for a whole afternoon until she apologised for apologising too much for almost being the cause of his untimely demise.

Contrary to house-elves, Hermione's weak and too human body was still recovering from the effects of the curse. Though her skin had cooled down again, her head still hurt anytime she moved it too fast or looked out the window to the unusually sunny weather outside. She had locked herself in her room with all the books on Fiendfyre Kreacher could get her since waking up after the incident in the backyard. Somehow, someone must have had put more information in one of these books; she just had to find it. Or break into Malfoy Manor's library sooner than intended if Draco's accounts were anything to go by.

A knock on her door broke her out of her thoughts. She stared at the door for a confused second. The only other soul in the house was Kreacher, and he never bothered knocking. There was another knock that finally brought Hermione's senses back to her, and she opened the door.

"Oh, it's just you."

"What a lovely welcome." Regulus opened the door wider, sidestepping the mess of books on the floor in exaggerated caution to sit down in the chair by the window. "You were expecting someone else?"

"I just thought you'd be at Hogwarts since you are still a student there, but how silly of me." She closed the door behind her and sat on the other chair facing him. "How are you just allowed to leave whenever you want?"

"By politely asking." His gaze lifted from studying the tomes on the ground and settled on her face with a trained neutral expression. Most likely to hide his surprise, Hermione guessed. She self-consciously tucked a strand of her short hair behind her ear before he could even ask. "What happened to your hair?"

"Singed it off." He looked back at the books and didn't enquire further which Hermione was glad for. "If I may so politely ask, why are you here?"

"Bellatrix knows about you."

She seemed to lose control of her face and could only manage to stare at him dumbly.

"How? I don't do anything but stay in this hole all day! I don't go out in the wizarding world, I have not talked to anyone else besides Sirius and his friends, and-" It took her brain a moment to catch up to her mouth. She vaguely registered Kreacher appearing with a tea set and Regulus saying something to her or Kreacher; she wasn't sure.

"Have you ever seen Peter Pettigrew at one of the meetings?"

Regulus' hand hovered over the cup for a second too long, clenching around the tongs until his knuckles turned white before letting the sugar cube fall in the tea with a tiny 'plop'.

"He is a Death Eater?"

"Yes. No, sit down. I don't know either." Regulus shook off her hand on his wrist and sat back down with an undignified huff.

"I haven't been to many meetings due to school. I'm afraid that even politely asking wouldn't help me in that situation. He is a traitor then?"

Hermione fidgeted a bit under his gaze. She hadn't told him everything about what had happened in her time, only bits and pieces she thought he needed to know, but it didn't take a genius to connect the dots on Peter.

"I don't think he is one yet." She hesitated but reached her hand over his balled fist on the table. He twitched as if to pull away but kept his hand there. "They trust you; you would have heard about him. Bellatrix must have found out another way."

His fist relaxed slowly under her touch. "Yeah, Bellatrix has her ways," he said, though his gaze was still fixed on a point somewhere outside. "Don't you think you should tell them? About Pettigrew, about... whatever is going to happen to them?"

Hermione slid her hand away from his and slumped back in her chair. She didn't want to think about that topic. She was sure sooner or later the truth would come out – after all, even she didn't have a good enough memory to keep all her lies straight – though she was desperately hoping for the latter. _ After _ Voldemort was defeated. _ After _they all made it out alive.

"I don't think it would be a good idea to tell them that their best friend is going to betray them and cause their death. Especially if it hasn't happened yet, and I can find a way to stop it from ever happening."

"But-"

"No," she interrupted him. "If I even just tell them that I'm from the future everything will change. They will want answers from me, answers that I can't give them because it will change every action they take in the future that matters. And then what? Maybe I'd have their trust faster than pretending to be some long lost bastard sister, but I won't have any plan or idea of what's to come next. Or what if they don't trust me at all? They already drugged me with Veritaserum, what do you think would happen with a tale like that? They would most likely hand me over to the Order, and it somehow gets out again, maybe even reaching Voldemort."

Hermione was breathing hard, and she tried to steady herself by pacing around the room. Thinking about everything that could go wrong always sent her in a frenzy, making her want to abandon their plan. If it even deserved to be called one. She would have rambled more, but Regulus interrupted her train of thought.

"Why did you tell me then?"

She turned back to him. He looked like a lost child, almost slouching in his chair with his hair falling over his eyes. It reminded Hermione of the day she had met him, and she hesitated with her answer, though when he looked up to meet her eyes, she was sure he already knew.

"You didn't have a future before I came."

He looked away from her again, nodding his head. "Of course, yeah," then with a glance at his watch, "We'll have to leave soon. Bring in the dress, Kreacher."

Hermione also stood up from her chair, looking at the dark garment in Kreacher's hands with knowing dread.

"Where are we going?"

"I told you Bellatrix knows about you now. She ordered us to attend a small gathering at Malfoy Manor of the most elite the wizarding world has to offer." He took the dress from the house-elf and handed it to her with a grim smirk. "All very close to the great cause, of course."

Hermione eyed the dress. It was a pretty deep green gown, almost black, not one she would have picked out for herself, but on someone like Lavender, it would have looked beautiful. The skirt was long and pleated, silvery accents blinking at her now and again; she imagined twirling in it would have been a lot of fun. The sleeves were just long enough to reach the crook of her elbow, but even if they had been longer, they wouldn't have covered anything as they were made of delicate lace. She absent-mindedly tugged at her sleeve and gathered the fabric of her shirt in her fist.

"I can't go there."

"We have to. Bella is expecting us."

"Even if Merlin himself was waiting there for me, I can't."

Her heart felt as if it was trying to escape her ribcage, beating so hard it almost hurt. She let the dress fall on the bed and turned to open the window, to try and get some air back into her lungs. The sun was slowly setting over the roofs of the row of houses, and she was grateful the light didn't cause her head to hurt more than it already was starting to. She closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the cold window, breathing the fresh air slowly in and out of her nose.

"What happened at Malfoy Manor?"

Her eyes flew open again, and she brought her arm around her, hugging herself. Her breath fogged up the window when she answered him.

"Nothing you have to worry about."

"I know you said you don't want to share much of the future, but you have to tell me what happened so I can understand."

His voice got closer behind her, and she pressed her left arm harder against her body before turning around to face him.

"War happened. Your family happened." She tried swallowing, but her throat was too dry. "Bellatrix happened." She held out her left arm, still covered by grey fabric, and he looked at it with concern. Hermione looked back at her sleeve too and saw that little droplets of blood had seeped through it. He reached for her arm, pulling the sleeve up, and making her hiss through her teeth when the fabric pulled at the sensitive skin.

"This wound is cursed." He continued looking at the word unblinking. "You need to see a healer."

"So more people can know about it?" She pulled her arm away from him and tried to put some distance between them, but her back was already against the window. "No, thank you."

"Kreacher, get some Murtlap Essence." Kreacher popped away with a sad look at her arm. "And you sit down." He guided her by her shoulder to sit back in the chair. He took the bottle from Kreacher who had appeared again but shoved it back into the elf's hands with another look at the scar.

"That will only help stop the bleeding until I move my arm again."

Regulus had sat back down too and observed Kreacher carefully patting the essence onto her arm.

"We'll put a bandage over it, and I'll find you a robe of my mother's that can cover it."

She felt her anger rise anew but tried to keep calm. "I told you, I'm not going."

"And I told you we have to, Bella wants to meet you."

"I don't want to see that woman ever again unless it is to kill her."

He looked up from her arm where Kreacher was now putting a clean bandage on it. His eyes were bright, and though Hermione was angry at him for pressing the matter, she relented a bit.

"She won't stop until she meets you, and as long as she believes you truly are a Black, she won't hurt you."

"You're scared of her."

"She's family."

"And you're scared of her."

He smiled at her humourlessly and sat back in his chair.

"So are you."

Hermione looked back to the dress lying innocently on the bed. It was a beautiful dress; she would have felt happy to wear it in any other situation. She chewed at her lip and tugged at the chapped skin until she tasted metal. She _did _have to visit Malfoy Manor sooner or later, she thought.

"I won't leave your side, I promise."

She looked up at him, but his eyes were still fixated on her now bandaged arm. "Okay," she said, barely a whisper, and when his eyes met hers in gracious surprise, she tried smiling at him. "But be prepared for a ton of nagging."

* * *

They arrived at Malfoy Manor 'fashionably late', as Regulus had put it. It took them a while to get from the front gates to the ballroom, and Hermione didn't recognise the Manor from the one ingrained in her memory. Fairies were flying around the gardens, their wings glittering in colourful shades and annoying the sleeping peacocks by speeding by their heads as fast as they could. Some tried to show off to the others by sitting on top of the birds as long as they could until they snapped for them. Hermione almost forgot her impending doom waiting for her, so nicely decorated it was.

The first thing she saw through the open doors of the ballroom was the huge ornate chandelier. Hermione couldn't be sure that this was the same room where she had been tortured – she wouldn't be surprised if even their guest bathroom had a chandelier like that – but her hand still went to check once again that the secured robe hadn't somehow come loose.

Regulus took hold of her arm and gave her a firm nod. She nodded back, though it felt more like one of those bobblehead dogs her grandfather used to have on his dashboard.

The party looked to be in full swing when they entered. People were dancing to the string music coming from an invisible orchestra, or chatting cheerfully on the sidelines, though never so loud as to disturb the peace too much. It looked like a regular party to Hermione, maybe a little too upper class and Death Eatery for her liking. Only a handful of people stopped to look at the newcomers before going back to their business, though Hermione couldn't shake the feeling they were talking about her now. She clung harder to Regulus' arm, the more whispers she heard.

"Black!" A booming voice called them over, and Hermione saw an older woman clutch at her chest dramatically. Regulus turned to the person with a polished smile. "Finally decided to show your face, you little bugger. And got yourself a new bird too, eh?" He looked her up and down with his dark eyes as she tried not to gag from his boozy breath.

Regulus' smile became more forced. "This is Hermione, my sister."

It took the man a little to understand the words. "You never told me you had a sister!" He got closer to Hermione's face as if to inspect it. She readied herself to reach for her wand, just in case. "If I had known I would have never married your cousin," he whispered, though it was only slightly lesser in volume than before.

"Don't worry, you weren't my first choice either, dearest." Hermione took a step backwards and almost tumbled on her back if Regulus hadn't held her against him. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears, silencing the chattering of the guests. Her vision was only focused on the woman before her. Bellatrix looked beautiful in her black, floor-length gown, like the mistress of the house. Her smile was as sweet as it was venomous, and Hermione didn't dare look away from her.

"Bella, it's good to see you again." Regulus let go of her only for a second, but she felt like she was swaying like the drunken Rodolphus. He kissed her cheeks twice, and Bella's bright smile seemed even more forced than before.

"This is her then. Hermione." She let every syllable linger on her lips longer than needed.

"Yes, you wanted to meet her. This is our cousin Bellatrix that I told you about."

"Can she not talk for herself?"

"Maybe later, dear cousin, but you have to excuse us." He offered his arm, and Hermione clung to him like he was a portkey. "We just got here, and it would be rude not to greet everyone and introduce the new member." They started turning around, and Hermione felt her blood calm down slightly. "Especially since I am Lord of such an esteemed house. You understand, right?"

"You're doing good." His tone was still low, even though they had left Bellatrix and her husband far behind. Hermione could see her angrily whispering at him, the smile never leaving her face. She had dimples when she smiled, she noticed.

"She saw right through me, but yeah, I'm doing great." Her fingers dug into the bandage around her arm. It stung, and she felt her head clear a bit.

Regulus handed her a glass of champagne from a passing tray, and she downed it at once.

"You don't have to talk much, but you should smile more. There are photographers present, and you look like I've taken you hostage."

"Of course there are." She tried plastering on a pleasant smile. "I think I need to go to the ladies room for a second if you don't mind." She left before he could say anything, not knowing where she was going. She just wanted some room where she could be alone to calm down for a second.

Seeing Bellatrix before her time in Azkaban was weird. She still had a slightly crazed look in her eyes – like a wild animal trapped in domestication – while simultaneously looking like she was in her element; like she only had to raise her brow for anyone to cover in fear, and do whatever it was she wanted.

Hermione stopped in front of a big ornate door. It was the first one that was slightly open, and she felt less like she was trespassing. She barely fit through the gap, and almost tore her robe, but that was forgotten when she saw the towers of books that welcomed her. It reminded her of Hogwarts' library but bigger and – though she loathed to admit it – better.

Her fingers traced the backs of the hefty tomes, wondering what knowledge the Malfoy's must have collected over the years. Maybe she'd find something useful on Fiendfyre here? She went to grab for her wand strapped on her leg next to her mokeskin pouch when she felt something bumping against the leather.

She knew all the items that were in her bag, and only one of those could be the cause of the bumping. Her hands shook as she untied the pouch from her leg and held it in her hands. As if sensing that it wasn't tied down anymore, the jolts got more energetic, and Hermione let if fall with a small scream. She quickly picked her bag up again and made her way up and down the aisles investigating the halls where the Horcrux inside seemed to vibrate with anticipation. The banging of a door close by made her stop in her tracks.

"Mopsy has seen the girl go in here, Mistress," came the squeaky voice of a house-elf followed by echoing footsteps fast behind. Hermione just had enough time to strap her mokeskin pouch back on her leg and pretend to be enthralled by some random book on the renaissance of wizarding etiquette, when Bellatrix rounded the corner of her hallway.

"Snooping, are we?"

Hermione's heart was in her throat. She could still feel the Horcrux trying to jump out of its clutches and prayed to whatever deities were watching over her she would survive this encounter.

"I wasn't snooping." She tried to cover the nervousness in her voice by taking her time to put the book she had picked as her cover back in its rightful place. "I got a little lost on the way to the ladies room." Hermione turned back in Bella's direction but didn't let her gaze wander higher than her throat.

"Hm, sure you did." She took Hermione by her bandaged arm. Her legs felt like jelly, so it only took the slightest tug to make her follow. "Let me show you the way." She was quiet for a while, the only sound coming from their steps, too loud in the silent library. "You know when Regulus finally confessed to me that he had been keeping you a secret for a while, I was quite mad, to say the least." Her dimples smiled down on Hermione, who only managed to nod at her words, still not going any farther than looking at her throat. "And then when I found out, he legitimised you without consulting any of his _real _family, I was... displeased, you can imagine. I don't know what I would have told him to do, but it definitely wouldn't have been as nice as legitimising you." Her long fingers reached out to Hermione's face, and she tried hard not to flinch away. Bella tucked a loose strand behind her ear, muttering a little charm that kept it tucked away. "We do look like family, Halfblood." With that, she let go of Hermione's arm and gestured to the right. "The water closet you were searching for. Do make sure you come back to the party. We wouldn't want to miss you."

Hermione shut the door behind her hastily, hearing the faint laughter of Bellatrix ringing in her ears. She counted to a hundred, and when that didn't help, drowned the last bit of calming draught she had left. It wasn't much, and it didn't help like it used to, but it was enough to make the laughing stop.

She allowed herself another minute to calm her breathing and then rejoined the party. Regulus was standing next to his aunt and two other people Hermione didn't recognise. A tall, blond man was animatedly talking to Druella Black, and a younger girl was standing next to him, nodding along once in a while, though her mind seemed somewhere else.

"Hermione, there you are." Regulus sounded relieved to be freed from the conversation. "Meet my aunt, Druella Black."

Druella extended her limp hand. Hermione took it, unsure if she was expected to curtesy. She shook it once, murmured some pleasantries and stood back next to Regulus. Druella observed her with unimpressed eyes but didn't say anything.

The two blondes introduced themselves as Evan and Evelyn Rosier and excused themselves just as quickly.

"Miss... Granger, was it?" Druella turned her black beetle eyes to look her up, top to bottom, before reaching her face again and grimacing a smile.

"Black, Aunt Druella," Regulus answered for her before she could even open her mouth.

"Naturally, excuse my tardiness." To her credit, she didn't even flinch her eyes. "You have your –" she hiccuped here, though, from the way she slightly swayed back and forth, it was more likely because of the champagne. "– fathers eyes, you do."

Hermione didn't know how to answer, so only thanked her. Druella didn't seem to hear her and continued talking.

"Just like that blood traitor. You know, Walburga thought Orion wanted to reinstate Sirius' role as the heir, but it seems to me that it was you he wanted to legitimise." Her blank eyes drifted to a floating tray next to Hermione's shoulder and lit up in delight. She took her time carefully picking out an hors d'oeuvre from a floating tray, and popping it in her mouth. "Though of course, he passed away, before anyone really knew his real plan. So sudden his death, so tragic." She patted Regulus' cheek in comfort with the hand she had just licked two of her fingers clean. His smile at her was thin.

"_So _sudden, Mother." Druella's hand stopped the rhythmic patting of Regulus' cheek instantly. "Almost like it was planned. But those are just the absurd tales of the gossip columns, isn't that right?"

Druella's face was expressionless for a second before it broke into a smile that displayed almost all her teeth. (Hermione thought she might have seen a few cavities.) "Of course, darling." Bellatrix too was smiling broadly, and Hermione was thankful to have grown up in a somewhat functioning family.

Druella turned to Hermione, now with a kinder look that somehow scared her more. "As I was saying to Regulus before, the best time to get married is right after Hogwarts." Hermione's eyes shot to Regulus in confusion at the sudden turn in conversation, but his eyes were closed. "You are older than Regulus, I presume?"

"Uh... I'm turning twenty this year."

"Good, we haven't missed your prime years then. Though you would need some lessons in decorum before any man would have you."

Hermione's mouth opened to argue, but Regulus shook his head at her. Bellatrix was watching the three of them with a wicked grin.

"I think dear Rabastan has been looking for a suitable wife for some time now, hasn't he, Mother?" She eyed Hermione from the side, her eyebrows drawn up. "I think even a half-blood bastard would be too good for him."

"Isn't that your other cousin over there?" Hermione asked. Her fury had vanished all of her anxiety for the time being. "I'd like to meet her too."

She took Regulus by his arm, who quickly managed to excuse both of them. The faint tutting of Druella followed them.

"You're not the only one she tried to set up tonight. I'm supposed to marry Evelyn Rosier right after Hogwarts."

Hermione let go of dragging him over to Narcissa. She thought back to the day at the hospital. At how close he had been with Crouch Jr.

"Does he know?"

"Who?"

"Your boyfriend?" The word 'boyfriend' was said so quickly and low in volume that Regulus took a while to understand what she had meant.

He started sputtering words in no coherent order until finally, he said, "I'm not qu- he's not my- No."

Hermione's eyes went wide in embarrassment, and she felt her cheeks get hot.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have assumed anything. I just–"

Regulus didn't seem to be listening to her.

"I don't _think _I am. Evelyn is a pretty girl, and anyone would be lucky to marry her. It's just- I just don't think I want to be that person. _Not _because I am... you know."

They stared at each other for a while, not saying anything. Hermione apologised again, not knowing what else would fit this kind of situation.

"Let's just forget it. It's not like it matters, anyway. If it's not Evelyn, it will be another pureblood girl."

They continued their way over to Narcissa. Hermione wanted to offer him comforting words but didn't have any. He was right, she thought. He was not like Sirius. From the limited time they had spent with each other, it was clear to her that Regulus wouldn't abandon his family if he thought there was a way to save them. No matter how much it hurt him.

The Narcissa Malfoy Hermione knew from the future had been a hard and unemotional — for lack of a better fitting term — bitch. It took her a double-take to make sure that she didn't just imagine the tears in the blonde's eyes, as she hugged the girl in front of her. They whispered unintelligible words at each other before turning over with elegant smiles. Hermione found some comfort in the apathy that was still visible on her straight, pale lips.

"Regulus, it's good to see you again." She took his hands in hers, and for just a second, her smile seemed to turn more genuine. Then she turned to Hermione. "You must be the new addition to our family. It's good to meet you."

"It's good to meet you, too, Mrs Malfoy. Your house is beautiful." She was happy it wasn't Regulus she lied to, or she surely would have been struck dead in an instant.

"I am Nisa, by the way," the girl next to Narcissa piped up. She spoke slowly, pronouncing every syllable with utmost caution. "I like the little snakes in your dress. They're very... fitting."

Hermione looked down at her gown and noticed only then that the silvery flashes were tiny snakes slithering up the dress. She laughed. "I like your dress, too. You're allowed to wear red?"

Nisa looked around the room with her earnest eyes. It was a sea of black, green and here and there some dark blue dresses.

"I think I get away with it because I didn't go to Hogwarts."

"Well, technically I didn't either, but I guess rules don't apply to witches with muggle in them."

Her look turned more serious, and though Hermione was sure she was older than Nisa, her hands on hers felt almost motherly.

"It takes us outsiders longer to be accepted, but you'll get there too. Not all of them are as mean as they look." She smirked up at Narcissa, who had been following their conversation with feigned disinterest. To Hermione's surprise, the blonde smiled back at her and didn't stop even as she met Hermione's eyes.

Nisa's eyes darted behind Hermione's shoulder, and her face fell, though she gathered herself rather quick.

"You'll have to excuse me now. My husband seems to be wanting my attention. It was very nice to meet you."

The three of them turned to her view. An older man with a cane in his hand was frowning at their direction from afar. Hermione wasn't sure if it was only her imagination but he seemed to glare even more whenever his eyes landed on her.

"She is nice," Hermione said as they watched her retreating figure leave to join a group of men.

"It's a wonder she fits in so well with us, isn't it?" Hermione turned to Regulus to deny that that was what she was implying, but Narcissa's puffed laugh stopped her.

She looked back at Nisa, who was standing next to her husband and his peers, making her look even younger.

"How old is she?"

"Younger than me." Regulus shot a questioning look at his cousin, who nodded. "She turned seventeen only last month, I think."

"That's vile."

"Theodoros is not getting any younger, and he needs an heir." Narcissa's look mirrored Hermione's in revulsion. "He doesn't care for vile. Most men don't." She turned back to Hermione. Her eyes seemed less distant than before. "Welcome to the family."

Regulus and Hermione mingled for another hour or so. They steered clear from Druella and her matchmaking, and any time Bellatrix would see them with that little glint in her eyes, Regulus would find another person of utmost importance Hermione just _had _to meet.

By the end of the night, she was drained. Her calming draught had long worn off, though exhaustion had taken over its place in keeping her anxiety at bay. She nodded off a couple of times, which seemed to be a total faux pax if the appaled looks she got were anything to go by.

Many had already left – bidding their pretentious goodbyes and farewells to the hostess – when Regulus' mark started to burn. He accompanied her to the Floo. Hermione could feel the eyes of the people on her. The ones who were better at hiding behind their Pureblood masks seemed unimpressed by her entire existence, while some others still looked at her in distaste.

Regulus gave her a handful of Floo powder and gently led her to an ornate fireplace. It was white like everything else in the Manor and so big and wide that four people could fit in it comfortably.

"I'm going back to school after the meeting. I'll write to you soon, all right?"

Her eyes were burning from the light reflecting off the white marble. She heard a familiar high-pitched laugh from close by.

"Will it be safe?" She eyed the black powder in her hands, grains were falling on the pristine floor, and she internally apologised to the house-elf who had to clean her mess up.

"I made sure that no one can enter Grimmauld Place without your firm permission."

She hugged him, overcome with gratitude. He hesitated for a second, then raised his arms to hug her back.

"Be careful."

Hermione stepped into the fireplace and shouted her destination. Before she could altogether disappear into the chaos that was the Floo network, she caught the sight of Bellatrix, waving at her with a brilliant smirk.

* * *

_ 9 May 1979_

_ Dear Lord Black_

_ We regret to inform you that your mother has passed away peacefully in her sleep from the night of 7 May 1979 to 8 May 1979.  
_ _Please come in at your earliest convenience. There are urgent matters to discuss concerning her death._

_ Yours sincerely_

_ Helbert Spleen  
_ _Head Coroner_

The parchment caught fire in his hands, the black ashes blending with the dark covers of the bed.


End file.
